


Not Really

by sorbriquette



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, for a while too, starts in sixth year but will go through to eighth eventually, we will actually be stopping off on the friends segment of the relationship this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 67,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbriquette/pseuds/sorbriquette
Summary: After learning of the growing distance between the Mage and his heir, the Families decide that they'd rather make an ally of Simon Snow than kill him. Snow is nothing if not loyal though, so turning him is going to need a little more than a good deal. New loyalties must be created and who better to do that than Snow's roommate and soon to be ex-archnemesis, Baz Pitch.Basically, an AU where the Families get Baz to befriend Simon and try to flip him. Then it develops into something more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has shorter chapters than I'd usually do but this way I should be able to update more often.  
> Anyways, hope yall like!

**Baz**

My father calls me into his study a few days before I leave for Watford.

"Basilton," is the extent of his greeting as he gestures for me to take a seat in one of the armchairs facing his desk.

I do sit, meeting his word with an equally cold and formal, "Father."

My father leans back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers and looking far more like some Bond villain than is entirely appropriate. I know he's not really the one calling the shots with the Old Families, his pull diminished a lot after the death of my mother, though I suppose that happened to all the Families.

"I think it's about time we do something about Simon Snow," he says. For a moment I'm grateful for all those years I spent figuring out how to replicate my father's mask, how to not let anything through, because in that moment I feel my heart drop into my stomach.

We're only in sixth year, it's not time yet.

Not time for us to fight.

Not time for one of us to die.

I swallow my panic. "Father, we don't have any way to move against him."

I see something darken in my father's expression and his lip quirks up ever so slightly. The change sets me on edge. "I think perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"I hear the Mage tends to be somewhat... neglectful of Snow, is this true?" My father asks and now I'm pretty sure I can see where he's going with this and I've half a mind to stop it now.

I remain for the most part impassive. "I suppose, the Mage collects him for missions sometimes, but aside from that they don't talk much."

My father raises an eyebrow at the use of the word 'missions'. He has a right to, I think, it's a bloody stupid word that Snow slaps on to whenever he goes and kills a bunch of things for the Mage.

"Good," Father says eventually, "the Families have been thinking, the best way to deal with Snow is probably not to take him on, or even take him out. The Mage's hold is weakening on the boy and if we could get him on our side..." He trails off, not for lack of words, but more so for dramatic effect.

"You want me to befriend Snow?" I ask, even though I already know.

"Yes."

"Snow and I have a lot of history, maybe Dev would be more appropriate," I argue. Dev would, after all, be a better candidate. Fake a falling out with me and slowly coax Snow over to the dark side. Me though? Simon Snow hates me.

My father doesn't seem to see my logic though, so he simply shakes his head. "The Families have already decided, Basilton. At least attempt it, if you fail, then we shall consider other options."

I just nod. I don't like this plan, but I won't stand in the way of the Families, I know where my loyalties lie.

"Will that be all Father?"

"Yes, have a good school term, Basil."

"Thank you, Father."

**Simon**

Merlin, I'd missed magic.

It's my first thought when I finally get back to Watford, watching students or their parents levitate bags and trunks along behind them as they go to get settled in their rooms.

I just sling my backpack over my shoulder. I suppose it's for the best that I don't have that many possessions, I couldn't manage one of those levitation spells.

The thought leaves me a little bitter, but I push that feeling aside. I don't want to be bitter right now. I'm just glad to be back.

I can’t even have that though apparently.

As soon as I push open the door to my room (or our room I suppose), Baz looks up at me, dark hair not slicked back for once and instead framing his face.

He shouldn’t be here. Baz usually doesn't get back until right before classes start. I get at least a few days of peace. He must’ve been delighted to be able to snatch even that out of my grasp.

"Snow," he says before he goes back to hanging up his clothes in the wardrobe.

No snarky remarks. No sneers or smirks. Just him draping shirts over hangers and straightening out creases I can't even see.

"Baz," I spit back through gritted teeth. At least if he'd already started being a dick I'd have a good reason to be mad. A reason besides his presence, his mere existence. I suppose neither of us has ever really needed a reason to pick a fight with the other though.

He doesn't say anything after that, so I just slam the door closed behind me and march over to unpack what little I have.

Baz doesn't react the aggression, save an eyeroll that I'm not sure if I'm meant to see or not.

The silence between us sets me on edge. It's not like we regularly chat, but Baz hasn't even taken a shot at me yet. Not a one. Not even about the clothes I'm wearing, a ratty shirt and trackies that are a couple of sizes too big and are splattered with rips and stains. Usually, I'm back in my uniform by the time he arrives, so he doesn't have time to get in a sneer. It makes Baz seem posher than usual and makes me feel lower than ever.

My uniform is waiting for me of course. So, in a moment of weakness, I scoop it up and make for the bathroom as if somehow wearing it is going to protect me from Baz's mockery. I'm not sure there's anything that can do that.

I may as well have a shower while I'm here anyway. Indulging in hot water that lasts more than a minute and soaps that don't leave my skin drier and dirtier than when I got into the shower.

I dress before leaving the bathroom, running my hand through my still too short hair. The curls are hard to manage (not that I put a lot of effort into managing them, much to Agatha’s chagrin) but I prefer them to keeping my hair shaved like I have to in the summer.

Baz has finished unpacking and is just lazing on his bed now, reading something. Getting a jump on school work probably. Dev and Niall mustn't be back yet, no one to plot with.

It's out before I realise my lips are moving. "You're back early."

Baz's grey eyes flicker up to me. I'm waiting for a snippy remark, a 'how observant of you, Snow' or an 'I'm surprised they let you back at all'.

Instead, he just nods. "I am."

That throws me. It throws me more than any shitty thing he's said or chimaera he's tried to feed me to. So, I just choke out a "Why?" It sounds accusatory at least.

Because he wanted to torment me?

Because he'd finished snacking on all the servants at Pitch Manor?

Because his family had decided they didn't want a vampire around any longer than necessary?

"My Aunt Fiona dropped me, she couldn't do it later in the week," he offers up far more freely than I'm comfortable with. Still, at least I didn't manage to run into his bitch aunt today, that would only have made things worse.

"Are you lying to me?"

"Why would I be lying, Snow?"

"Part of a plot."

He rolls his eyes and sighs, gaze going back to his book. "No," he says exactly like someone who is plotting would.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

"You're behaving awful suspicious."

He looks back to me, his voice still flat and bored. "Am I?"

"You've not said anything shitty since I walked in."

"I suppose I haven't."

I ball my hands into fists. Glowering at him as I shove my old clothes to the back of my wardrobe, not like I'll be wearing them again until next summer. "Why not?"

He sighs, more dramatically this time and closes his book, saving the page with a finger and resting it against his knee. "I'm tired, Snow."

"It's only four, Baz." I point out and he looks at me like I'm stupid.

"Tired of this. Of fighting," he explains, "Dealing with being stalked for a year can be surprisingly draining."

I narrow my eyes at him. I don't believe him for a second. I tell him so, just less eloquently. "Bullshit."

"I think I'd like to focus on my studies, that is why we go to school after all."

"You were top of our year last year." I'm not sure why I'm fighting him on this. I don't want to fight either I don't think. But I don't know what to do about Baz if I'm not fighting him.

He scoffs, "Barely."

"I don't know what you're playing at," I hiss out walking towards him till I'm standing over his bed and pointing a finger in his face, "but I will figure it out."

"You understand the point of this is that you leave me the fuck alone, right?" Baz asks arching an eyebrow and not moving an inch. "Get back on your side of the room, Snow."

"I know you're plotting," I reiterate because I'm not sure what else to say at this point but I'm sure as hell not backing down. Baz can't think for a moment that his ruse is working.

He bats my finger away with his book, before opening it again. "Then, by all means, go discuss it with your sidekick, she's already here, I saw her arrive."

It's what he wants, me to go find Penny, but also, it's what I want. It's been far too long since I've last seen her. "Fine," I snap, "but if you touch any of my things I'll know you're up to something."

I turn and stalk away towards the door, hearing a scoff of "what things?" before the door swings shut behind me.

**Baz**

Obviously, I'm not going to come right out and offer Simon Snow my friendship, that would be a bad idea for a multitude of reasons, most pressingly that he would be even more suspicious than he currently is.

No, Snow, much like a Labrador puppy, will offer his friendship up to anyone who so much as glances in his direction. So, I'll let him come to me. It'll be slow going, six years of antagonism won't just vanish because I'm ignoring Snow. Crowley, this would have been easier if this were the Families' plan from the start.

I'm not entirely sure I'll succeed. Gaining Snow's friendship would be easy enough, but I know Bunce's family doesn't support the Mage, she's his best friend and she hasn't been able to pry him away from his pathetic excuse for a father figure.

Honestly, I'm not sure I want to succeed.

If I succeed aren't I just doing to Snow the exact same thing the Mage is? Pretending I care about him to use him.

It wouldn't be pretending though. Not really.

I  _ do  _ care about Snow. Far more than an enemy should, or a roommate, or even a friend. Far more than  _ anyone  _ should.

I love him. I riddled that out eventually. It was hard not to with him there every moment of the day last year.

I do want to take Snow away from the Mage. I want to befriend him. I don't want to bring him over to our side though. I just want to get him away from all this. From the war and everyone who just sees him as some kind of weapon to end all this.

I'm not going to. That isn't what the Families told me to do.

I can hope though.

Hope that Snow never accepts my friendship, or that even if he does he chooses not to take sides in the war.

Luck has never been on my side though. Knowing my life, this will end with me and Simon on opposite sides of a battlefield, both being told to kill no matter how close we get. That'll only make it worse if we get closer. It'll make it worse for me anyway. Seeing Wellbelove and Snow happily together, not even have an excuse to pull them apart for once.

No matter what this is going to go terribly. It can only end in flames.

All I can really hope for is that Simon Snow will still be standing at the end of all of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I'm trying to keep these chapters short and sweet (sickenly sweet soon...) anyways, hope yall enjoy!

**Simon**

It's been weeks and I've not heard so much as a peep out of Baz. No luring me out in the middle of the night, no laying into me in the middle of class. Just nothing. He barely talks to me, barely even looks at me.

It's driving me insane.

I'm not sure what to do with myself without plots to foil and a vampire to stalk.

He did say he was doing this because me following him around was a bit too much. So, I've tried to stop. I was going to stop anyway, it's tiring following Baz around, I can't keep up with what's happening in my own life most of the time, let alone his as well.

Penny says I need a hobby. Penny also suggested study as a hobby though, but I don't think that counts.

I considered joining the football team, but just because me and Baz aren't at each other's throats right now doesn't mean I want to be his teammate. I don't want to have to watch Baz bolting across the pitch faster than should be humanly possible or see him control a ball like it's an extension of his own body. I don't need one more thing he's better than me at.

So, no, I'm not taking up a fucking hobby.

Just because Baz says he can't be bothered fighting me anymore doesn't mean he's nice though. He's still the same Baz. Chastising me for going on his side of the room, smirking when I mess up a spell, slamming the window closed every opportunity he gets.

It just feels more like regular roommate tension though.

Really, it's getting a little boring. I'm half starting to hope he'll make another attempt on my life just to give me something to do other than study.

I get my wish eventually, just not in a way I wanted.

**Baz**

Snow comes crashing into our room a few weeks into term, while I’m innocently sitting at my desk and trying to study. He’s all geared up for a fight, wearing that stupid expression he has whenever he thinks he's figured out my plot. It falls somewhere between unbridled rage and unearned smugness.

"You're full of shit, Baz." He punctuates the sentence by slamming his hand down hard onto my desk.

I keep my face neutral and a little on the bored side as I incline my head to look at him. "Is this about something in particular, or are you just acting out for my attention?"

I think Snow turns a little pink at that, but his anger only grows. "You fucking know what this is about," it's more a hiss than his usual growl, he must be seething. "Agatha."

I roll my eyes at him. "Wellbelove? Really?"

"Yes, you arse, she broke up with me."

"I'll make a note to congratulate her."

He lets out a howl of frustration and brings the side of his fist down onto my desk again.

"If you break it, I'm taking yours," I warn him.

Snow doesn't hear me apparently, he just presses on with his little outburst about Wellbelove. "She broke up with me for  _ you. _ " He spits out the word 'you' like the notion is inconceivable, an affront to nature itself. He's right of course, but I don't say anything.

"I'll send along my condolence as well, then," I mutter, turning back to my work.

Even if I'm meant to be befriending Snow, it's hard not to rile him up. Snarky is basically my main personality trait at this point, or so Fiona says. And Snow does look wonderful all riled up. Sparks dancing everywhere, magic permeating the air and making me feel like I want to be near him more than any cologne or perfume could manage.

I suppose everyone feels that though.

They appreciate that magic, not the fire in his eyes or the way his hands muss his curls until they’re as agitated as he is or the way his tawny skin stretches taught across the knuckles of his curled fists.

No one else appreciates that.

"For fuck's sake Baz, you say you want to stop fighting? Leave Agatha alone." He draws the last three words out slowly like I'm the one who doesn't understand words, not him.

I sigh, pointedly. "I have Snow, it's not my fault your girlfriend only wants what she can't have."

Somehow my lack of any interest in Wellbelove only seems to egg on his ridiculous attack. "Of course she thinks she can have you, you're always flirting with her."

"When was the last time I did that?" I challenge him, raising both my eyebrows and pursing my lips as I pretend to wait for an answer I know he doesn't have.

Snow 'um's and 'ah's for a few moments before snapping out a, "I don't know, when did you last see her?"

I turn back to my work, clicking the back of my pen against the table, trying to signal that this is the end of the conversation. "The last time I flirted with her, you were there, I have no interest in Wellbelove, I was just messing with you."

This stops him a little, his magic doesn't retreat, he's still bursting at the seams. It makes him pause though. "You were messing with me?"

"Obviously."

"You don't like Agatha?"

"She's not really my type."

Apparently, that's not a good enough answer because Snow scoffs. Or he tries to at least, it ends up as something more akin to a snort. "She's everyone's type."

I  _ do  _ scoff. Successfully. Because I have control over my own vocal cords like most people. "Not mine."

"Liar."

I look at him again, raising one eyebrow. I feel his magic rise further, I know he hates that, so I lift my eyebrow a little higher. Honestly, I probably wouldn't be so good at it if Snow hadn't given me years to train my facial muscles with his idiocy. "Is she Bunce's type?"

"Penny's? No." He says like it's obvious. Because he's thick.

"You said she was everyone's type."

"Not Penny's."

"Why not?"

"Because Pen's a girl."

"So?"

"Agatha is a girl."

"So?"

"They're both-" The fact that he's speaking allows me to pinpoint the exact moment he works it out. Really one day I am going to have to compare that with the time any person with half a brain would take.

He doesn't even give himself a moment to process this new knowledge before he's speaking again. "You don't like girls?"

"No."

"You like boys?" he asks, hesitantly.

I do my best to continue sounding bored as if I'm not discussing the fact that I'm gay with the boy I'm in love with. "Some of them."  _ One in particular. _

Despite my calm exterior, my heart is threatening to burst through my rib cage and only grows in intensity with every second that passes while I wait for Snow's reaction. It had to be done, it will help convince him that I mean this, that I really am staying away from Wellbelove. It still scares the shit out of me.

He just stands there for a few moments, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, as if the words will put themselves in there if he just keeps his mouth open. Not like it's ever helped the mouth breather before.

When he doesn't say anything I eventually figure I might as well start. "The Mage wouldn't move you when I was trying to kill you, I doubt he will for this. You'll just have to learn to live with it."

I see his brows tug together in the middle, he actually looks a little hurt, I'm not sure if that's for me or him. "Honestly Baz, I don't give a shit as long as you're not trying to steal my girlfriend." His tone is a little softer though, but not by much. It's his magic that betrays him though, shrinking away, sparks no longer hopping across the moles on his skin.

"No Snow, you've driven her away yourself."

And then it's back, sizzling across his features and making him blur a little. "Fuck you," he spits before turning on his heel and marching out, probably off to tell his girlfriend I don't want her. To tell her he wants her back.

Well best of fucking luck to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya kids, so frankly the concept of a hallway outside a balcony makes all of 0 sense to me, but that's exactly how where Baz does his music lessons is described in the book, so that's how I'm describing it here.  
> For reference, one of my betas, Eden (https://nympahdcra.tumblr.com/), said it would probs look something like this: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/448274815804243969/475331972441309204/155318-59b14202d05e1_190253128691505732342327133185160297994261o.png?width=488&height=326  
> Anyways, minimal Baz/Simon interaction here, but important plot progression so??? Hope yall enjoy regardless :)

**Simon**

Frankly, the fact that Baz is gay doesn't mean shit in the grand scheme of things. It's never stopped him from coming between me and Agatha before. It doesn't mean he isn't plotting. I still don't trust him.

I doubt he'd go as far as to fake it for a plot, but I can't really rule that out.

Gay or straight or whatever, anyone can plot.

So, I've given up the direct approach and have taken to following him again.

Not extensively, not like fifth year, just when I can get away with it. Like walking a little closer than I would on the way to class so I can eavesdrop on his conversations or flicking through his notes when he goes to the bathroom. Or, like right now, waiting in the hallway outside the balcony where Baz takes violin lessons.

Apparently, this pays off and I just manage to slip into an alcove as Niall comes by, so he doesn't notice me.

The sombre tune of Baz's violin ceases. The instructor left a little while ago, so I suppose the lesson is technically over, Baz must've just stayed to practice.

I can't hear them though. Not like I could hear Baz's violin. Everything’s kind of muffled.

I think for a second that all this is for nought. That I've finally got an opportunity to figure out what Baz is up to and I can't hear it. I consider casting a  **Say it louder for the people in the back,** but I think I'd accidentally key the whole school into what they were doing (and probably key Baz into what I was doing).

I wish I could hear better. 

"Come on, Baz, you can tell me, what are you planning?" Niall’s voice comes through clear as day.

I think for a moment that maybe they've started yelling, but the words still seem to be in a hushed whisper. I shouldn't be able to hear them.

I shouldn't be able to, but now I can.

"Crowley, Niall, you sound like Snow." Baz's voice contains a dash of amusement that is less malicious than the tone he usually uses with me. "I'm not plotting anything."

"No, really, Baz," Niall says, sounding exactly as dubious as I feel.

"Really." Baz sighs and I hear a sound I think is him placing down his violin. "I'm tired of all this. By all means, you go up against Snow. You'll see how fucking annoying it is when he stalks you everywhere for a year."

"So that's it?" Niall sounds mad now, "You're just going to admit defeat."

This is the point where Baz would have turned around and snapped at me or bit my head off or something, he's calmer when he talks to Niall. "It's not a defeat, he hasn't won. I'm still going to win. When the war happens and I kill him, that's when I'll win. There's no point in all of this, it doesn't help me at the end."

"You really want to kill him?" Niall actually sounds a little shocked. I'm not. Me and Baz both know where this is heading.

He's going to kill me. He's going to win.

Niall might be dubious but I'm not.

Baz sighs again, less exasperated and more forlorn. "I don't  _ want  _ to kill anyone. If I have to kill someone though, at least it's the Chosen One."

I snort. Then I clasp my hands over my mouth hoping they haven't heard me.

They haven't. Whatever I've done to let me hear them, it doesn't go both ways.

Niall just continues speaking. "If you don't want to kill him though, why don't you just not?"

In that moment I feel a certain level of appreciation for Niall. Even if I know his comment is because he doesn't want Baz to kill, not some kind of attempt to keep me alive.

Demonstrating a level of patience I didn't actually know Baz was capable of, he doesn't seem overly annoyed at the question. "I will not abandon my family and Snow will side with the Mage. So, I'll have to kill him." His tone is level like he's discussing the weather as opposed to his plans to off me in a couple of years.

"So, what, you're just going to leave him alone?"

"Yes."

"But you hate him?"

"Not really."

It's like everything I know has been tipped upside down and thrown out. Like everything I've done because of Baz has been wasted time, wasted energy, wasted loathing.

Because he doesn't hate me, at least not really.

This catches Niall as off guard as me apparently, because he splutters out a "what?"

I don't need to see the room to know the way Baz's eyebrow is quirked at him right now. Questioning, defiant, as if Niall is the one who just shattered his worldview, not the other way around.

"Why did you spend so much time plotting then?" Niall sounds annoyed. I don't blame him. I'm a little annoyed and I don't even have to look at Baz's 'you're an idiot' expression right now.

"It's easier, I suppose," Baz says slowly, "Make him hate me, make him act like an arse so I hate him. It'll make it easier to kill him when the time comes."

"Then why stop now?" Niall’s voice sounds smaller this time, sympathetic even. I can barely hear it, even with the spell.

"Because it's tiring."

Part of me is wondering if this is part of an even more elaborate plot, one to convince me Baz really doesn't mean me any harm right now. It doesn't sound like it though. It sounds reasonable. I suppose in a way I thought all our antagonism would make it easier to off him too.

Dev and Niall were always in on Baz's plots though. Baz might be a good actor, but Niall is shite.

"Because it's not working," Baz says after a moment.

And that's really all the encouragement I need.

If Baz doesn't hate me, if he's really not plotting, there's no point to all this, I really should just leave him alone.

I think  _ I  _ need to be alone too. To think. To figure out what the fuck just happened and how I feel about it.

If Baz is really giving up then so am I.

**Baz**

I hear Snow start to retreat.

For someone who spent a year trying to prove I'm a vampire and wears a cross everywhere, he really doesn't give much thought to the possibility that I have supernatural hearing. Which I do.

I don't know if he heard us. I think he did though because he leaves after I tell Niall I can't make myself hate him.

Niall just looks confused.

I shouldn't be using him like this, using him to get to Snow. Honestly, I didn't even mean to until he walked in and I saw my opportunity.

It's not like I can just let him in on the Families’ plans though. I'm not even sure they've told Dev about all this and he’s a Pitch.

I don't feel entirely bad about it though. A lot of it is the truth. Besides, Niall won’t hold it against me. It's not my plan to tell. He understands, I think. I hope.

Contrary to what I'd say if asked about it or what I sometimes like to tell myself I think. I do value my friends, for more than just the uses they have to me. I'd prefer not to lose Niall or Dev in pursuit of Simon Snow's friendship.

"So that's it then, no more plotting?"

I feel my mouth twitch up at the corner a little and I let it show because he's been more than understanding, even if he questions me. "Not unless you manage to get an arch-nemesis of your own."

He laughs a little and I give up on violin practice for the day and begin packing it away and loosening the string on my bow. Dinner will be starting soon and it'll be good to gage Snow's reaction in a public arena before our room. Not that an audience has ever stopped his antics before.

I think I might be different this time though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go kiddos, have something soft (tm)
> 
> Should have the next chapter up within a couple of days but I'm struggling a lil with the chapter that comes after so we shall see? Hopefully things don't get delayed too much but I'm a lil bogged under by uni and just life in general so.... (Rest assured at least that the next chapter is a slightly longer one)

**Simon**

Baz doesn't hate me.

I really don't dwell on it as much as I feel like I should. Partially because I don't really want to. But also, because I don't think I ever really hated Baz.

I hated the way he treated me and the fact that he's evil and the fact that he's a vampire who's trying to steal my girlfriend and kill me.

I'm not sure I ever really hated  _ Baz  _ though. I didn't hate him for him. I mostly just hated him because he hated me.

But he doesn't hate me.

So, I don't have to hate him.

I'm laying in bed, thinking about Baz and eating my feelings away with a mint aero bar (or three), when he comes in.

He doesn't pay me much heed until I stick the bar out towards him.

"What?" he asks in the voice he always uses when he knows I'm about to say something he can mock me for.

"Want some?" I say anyway because he'll mock me either way, at least, he used to.

Baz rolls his eyes and heads over to his closet. "I said I didn't want to fight, Snow, not that I wanted to be friends."

"Well I'm not offering you friendship, am I? I'm offering you chocolate."

"And I'm declining both."

"You can't decline what I'm not offering."

"It's pre-emptive."

"Pre-emptive?"

"Yes, so you don't bother asking for my help when Bunce gets sick of trying to work magic spells into that thick skull of yours." And there it is. The mockery. I'd gotten so far this time.

"I was trying to be nice." I half growl at him, putting the remaining chocolate bar in my mouth pointedly, to show him he's not getting any if he's going to be a prat. He raises an eyebrow that reminds me he didn't want any.

"Stick to being dumb, it's what you're good at."

I just groan and put my middle finger up at him as he closes the bathroom door.

So much for trying to fix things with Baz.

**Baz**

We do need to end up as friends. That  _ is  _ the goal here. I can't make it easy for him though, or he'll get suspicious again.

Crowley, if I could, I'd give Snow everything he wants, myself included.

I can't though. Not right now. I need to do this right.

Let it all be gradual, let it feel natural. Preferably in such a way that doesn't make me have to forfeit teasing him relentlessly.

So, I push Snow away the first few times. Declining when he tries to share his food, ignoring him whenever he tries to slip me a smile across the dining room or class, throwing in the occasional jab when I get the chance. Or feel it necessary. Or if I just really want to.

When I finally decide it's time though, I let him catch me on my laptop.

Not doing anything wrong really. Not by regular standards, just flicking through Netflix and trying to find a movie.

"You shouldn't have that." Snow says as soon as he walks through the door.

I lazily look up at him from where I'm sat on my bed. "Shouldn't I?"

"No, you shouldn't, the Mage banned them."

He did. He banned them in our fifth year along with phones. Complete tosh really. I think he only did it because he didn't want parents finding out about all the dangerous things that happened at school and sweeping their kids out of his clutches. Or because he was worried about students like me getting in contact with the Families. Like we don't know how to work notebooks and pens and can't pop off with our parents every weekend. Really, I think it's just a power trip. The Mage trying to remind everyone he's in charge. It's pathetic.

"I'm going to need a better reason than that, Snow."

Snow stands there opening and closing his mouth for a few moments, like a particularly stupid fish. Before he settles on, "Right, so what are you doing?"

I give a sigh with slightly more drama than necessary. It's fine, Snow won't notice. "Watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"I haven't decided yet." I wait a beat, then another, scrolling through movies mindlessly and watching Snow out of the corner of my eye. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I mean sure," Snow starts to prattle on, listing movies he'd heard about but had (for obvious reasons) been unable to see over the summer, or ones he'd watched with Wellbelove and wanted to see again.

He kicks off his shoes and sits up on the bed beside me, careful not to touch me, to leave a few inches of space between us.

 

“Get the fuck off my bed, Snow,” I protest, even if I don’t mean it. 

 

He just starts listing movies louder.

He eventually settles on something and I only argue a little, to keep his suspicions at bay for just a while longer.

Halfway through he sits up and slams the pause button. "What are you up to?" he rounds on me.

About time.

"What are you on about now?" I do my best to merely sound bored, but I let my lip curl ever so slightly to egg him on.

"Letting me pick the movie. Letting me watch a movie. With you. On your laptop. In your bed."

I do my best not to flush at that last one but I'm sure a little seeps through. "I've made you an accomplice."

"What?"

"An accomplice. Now you can't tell the Mage I have a laptop without getting into trouble yourself because you watched the movie."

"I only watched half the movie," Snow tries to argue.

"You think the Mage will care? Face it, Snow, you're my partner in crime, now."

He frowns at me for several long moments before settling down. He lets out a little laugh after a moment or two. “I suppose being evil is more fun."

Again, with the evil. Why is it Simon Snow assumes everything I do is somehow nefarious. "It's hardly evil."

"You said it's a crime."

I scoff. "No, I didn't. It's just against the rules, it's not a crime."

"Then it's against the rules." He reiterates, adding emphasis like it will somehow make it mean something.

"Rules made by a moronic dictator are not a basis for declaring something evil."

Then Snow's frowning again, glaring at me with unkempt eyebrows. I wonder if he'd let me convince him to pluck them when we become friends. I wonder if I'd want to. I'm not sure I want to now.

Snow opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off by pressing play on the movie again. "You can't say nice things about the Mage and use my laptop at the same time Snow, either shut up or fuck off."

He seems to accept the latter because he simmers down a little but I hear him mutter, "Prat" shortly before he shuts up for good.

I tilt my head away from him so he doesn't see me smile at that.

**Simon**

Movie night seems to quickly become a regular occurrence between me and Baz. Mainly because every Friday night when he pulls out his laptop I hop up beside him in bed and start rattling off movies I want to watch.

He doesn't tell me to go. That shocks me a little at first but thinking back the conversation I overheard between him and Niall, it merely makes me think that maybe he's trying to make amends for everything.

He usually lets me pick, with the occasional veto on anything he declares 'soppy trash' or 'mind-numbingly stupid' which covers most of the things I want to watch, apparently. Still, we usually manage to agree on something eventually.

Once I'm entirely sure he's not going to bite me, I let myself sit closer, so we're shoulder to shoulder like I do when I watch movies with Penny. The first time I did it I was entirely sure he was going to shove me onto the floor. He didn't. He just tensed up for a moment like he was about to shove me away, then relaxed.

It's not like we're completely touching anyway. Baz gets under the blanket because he gets cold I think. I sit on top of it because I'm always far too hot. So, it acts as a kind of buffer between us.

The first time I fell asleep on Baz I was surprised to wake up at all. I did though, near the end of the movie, as he shifted beside me and my head got jostled on his shoulder.

"Sorry," I'd murmured through a yawn.

Baz didn't say anything, just rolled his eyes and put a finger to his lips, which was new. Usually, he just lets me chatter incessantly throughout. That always used to annoy Agatha, but Baz doesn't seem to mind. Or maybe he just doesn't want me to think I'm getting to him.

Still, it feels like a milestone in our relationship. Whatever that is. So, the next Friday when Baz is setting up his laptop, I just tell him to pick whatever he wants.

I gather up the blanket off my bed and a few of the mint aero bars from my drawer.

Baz raises an eyebrow at me but he doesn't say anything, so I don't say anything either as I deposit the chocolate on the nightstand between our beds and toss the blanket around Baz's shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he asks, eyebrow somehow managing to climb higher.

"You get cold don't you?" I say as if it explains why I just gave my only blanket to my arch enemy. I know he gets cold. Not just in the constant whining about the window being open, or the way he huddles under far more blankets than necessary every night, but I feel it now. When our arms press together as we stare at his laptop, or that night when I woke up with my head on his shoulder, his pyjamas still crisp and cool against my cheek.

He looks suspicious but he (begrudgingly) thanks me anyway and tugs the fabric tighter around him.

I dig into my snacks before he's even started the movie, breaking off a row and offering it to him. He hesitates a moment or two before taking it from me. Then he waits a moment more before leaning over the side of his bed and digging out the salt and vinegar crisp packets I know he keeps under it.

He tugs open the packet, perfectly, like the arse he is, not splitting it down the seam at all, then he offers me some.

So now me and Baz watch movies together and share snacks I suppose.

The movie starts and at first, I think I just can't understand their accents but it quickly becomes apparent that is not that case.

"Baz is this movie in French?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I assume the people who made it are French?" He's being sarcastic but I know exactly why he picked it; to mess with me.

"I can't speak French, Baz."

He clicks a few buttons and subtitles appears at the bottom of the screen. "Good, we can practice your reading then. I know it's hard but I'll need you to do it in your head."

I elbow him in the side. Not hard enough to hurt, not enough to bring the Anathema down on me, but enough to display my annoyance. (Not that the smirk across Baz's lips didn't already let me know he knew)

"You're not getting any more chocolate," I say, relocating it back to the nightstand and away from Baz.

"Fine, then you're not getting any crisps." He doesn't have a table to put it on, so he just holds the packet in his hand.

I see his lip curl up out of the corner of my eye and can't help it when mine follows suit.

I'm starting to worry maybe I do want his friendship after all.

Halfway through he drapes an arm over my shoulder. I tilt my head up to look at him but he's still staring at the screen. It's kind of nice, so I just lean into him. I'd never have picked Baz for the cuddly type, but I also thought he hated me till a few weeks ago.

"Cold?" I ask, assuming he's taking advantage of all my extra body heat, not that I mind giving it away.

"No," he says, retracting his arm. I worry for a moment me mentioning it has caused him to retreat but when he pulls back he's holding one of my chocolate bars. "Just hungry," he says with a smirk.

"You're a bastard," I say, still leaning into him because I don't really want to move away. "I want a pack of your crisps to myself then."

"You'll have to go through me to get them."

"And I fucking will.”

Baz just laughs as I lunge over him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya all, so this wasn't actually going to be posted tonight because I was hella tired, but then the fire alarm went off in my building and we had to evacuate into the night so that woke me right up.  
> Anyways, jumping off that, times between updates are probs gonna get a bit longer cause uni is starting to stack up and chapters are getting longer and such. Not a massive change, just more like 3-4 days instead of the implied 2 day one I've been sticking to.  
> Also! I haven't responded to comments yet but I will soon. Its just 2.30am and I'm tired and I wasn't going to post this tonight. But i have read and greatly appreciate them all <3 So thanks!

**Baz**

Christmas break sets upon us before Simon makes his next move. Watching movies together on Fridays have become commonplace between us, but aside from that little has changed. We still avoid talking, for the most part, I still don't return any smiles he gives me when he catches my eye.

Then on the last day before I head home, someone deposits a plate across from me during lunch. Dev and Niall have already left for break, most of the students have.

I'm not surprised when I look up and see Snow sitting across from me. He offers me a grin with a lot more confidence behind it than there should be given I rebuked every other one. I'm glad. I like those grins. So unapologetically open.

"What do you want, Snow?" I ask with a sneer.

He blinks those stupid, ordinary blue eyes at me but his smile doesn't falter. "You were eating alone."

"So?"

He shrugs, his chipperness dampens a little at that. It returns fast enough as soon as he starts eating though. He somehow manages to spit out a, "I was too," around the mess of food in his mouth.

I frown (at more than just Snow's table manners) and scan the dining hall, "Why aren't you sitting with Wellbelove? She hasn't left from Christmas without you, has she?" I add a smirk to it but Snow knows I don't really mean anything by it anymore. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not yet.

"Me and Agatha broke up," he explains even though that doesn't  _ really _ explain anything. They'd gotten back together after the breakup that prompted me coming out to him (if you can call it that).

Come to think of it, I'm not sure you  _ can  _ call it that. I'm not sure Snow has properly processed that I'm gay. He still sits in bed with me when we watch movies. He still sleeps shirtless. He still does both of those things and then is calm enough to fall asleep on my shoulder.

Maybe he's denser than I thought.

Snow drags me back out of my internal musings about exactly how dumb he is. "I'm still going to her’s for Christmas, she just hasn't been sitting with me here." He shrugs again like he doesn't know any other gestures. "I went to Christmas with her family before we started dating and Dr Wellbelove says it's fine," he blabbers out like I was demanding he elaborate. Given the arch in my eyebrow, maybe I was. I make a point to lower it.

"I hope this isn't you trying to get invited to Christmas with me."

Snow laughs, at least his smile is back and he looks less uncomfortable. "Merlin, no. If you invited me for Christmas I'd assume it was as the main course not as a guest."

"Please, we only eat annoying children on Halloween. Besides, I don't think we could fatten you up in time."

"I feel like you're trying to insult me here, but I'm not sure where."

"If I were trying to insult you I'd have just said we don't need a scrawny little runt like you."

"And here I was thinking we were becoming friends."

I scoff, even though that's exactly what I intended. "We are not friends, Snow."

He shrugs yet again and sends me one of those slightly shyer smiles, the ones I've been getting more and more now that we're getting closer. "We could be."

"But we don't want to be, do we, Snow?"

"I might want to be."

"Crowley, Snow, if all it takes to garner your friendship is not trying to kill you, you really need to raise the bar."

He ignores my deflection and settles that unwavering gaze of his on me, full of determination. Really it is like staring into the Sun. Intense, blinding, futile because you can only look for so long before you feel like you're burning up.

"I heard you and Niall, you know."

I feign ignorance, "What are you on about?"

I hate manipulating him like this, truly. At least when we were fighting, he knew my intentions, even if they weren't good. This just feels wrong, like every moment with him is tainted by my ill will.

"When you were practising violin."

"Snow, I practise at least three times a week, you need to be more specific."

"When you told him you didn't hate me."

"I think you were imagining things, Snow," I brush him off because I know the more I deny it the more assured he'll become.

Snow just stares at me, dubiously, trying and failing to raise an eyebrow with half the finesse I have.

I push my plate away from me, still mostly untouched. I  _ had  _ been eating until Snow sat down because no one was close enough to see my fangs. "Besides, even if I did, hypothetically, say that, it does not mean I want to be your friend."

"Why not?" he asks, then with slightly more enthusiasm he points at my plate, "Are you done?"

I just push the plate towards him. "Because of things like this. You're basically a child. I'd have to feed you and do your homework and save you from every monster the Humdrum sends after you. I don't know how Bunce manages it."

Hurt flashes across his face for a moment but it quickly becomes a scowl. I think I've properly offended him this time. Good, I can't make this too easy. "You don't have to do anything, you just need to not be an arse every moment of the fucking day."

"Some of us just like a higher calibre of friend than that. You might be pathetically in need of love, but I'm not." But I am. And I do love him. But he doesn't need to know that yet. He doesn't need to know that ever.

He groans loudly and bends forward until his head smacks into the hardwood of the table. "This was a mistake," he mutters more to himself than me I think.

"Just like everything else you do."

He's basically seething, seeping magic everywhere. A little flushed too because he's embarrassed probably.

I let my expression remain blank and meet his stare as he raises his head.

"Fuck you," he spits eventually, picking up his plate (and my plate) and storming off to the other side of the dining hall.

It's fine, I'd eaten enough anyway.

**Simon**

"Oh, he's definitely the baddie."

"Would you please shut up, Simon," Agatha snaps at me before turning her attention back to the television.

We're sitting in the TV room, watching a movie together. Trying to make up so that the rest of Christmas won’t be so bloody awkward. She doesn't like me interjecting but it's hard to stop. Ever since I started watching movies with Baz he just lets me chat the whole way through. Sometimes I even see his lip quirk up a little at something I say, so Agatha's complete dismissal of my ongoing commentary is hard to manage.

We’re also sitting on opposite ends of the lounge, not smushed together on a bed meant for one. I suppose that makes sense, we did break up. It’s not as nice though. I half wish Baz was here with me, even if he was a git to me before we left.

I've been thinking a lot about Baz. Not that that's abnormal for me.

Now it's just a lot less about what he's plotting a lot more what he's doing in a general sense.

As if she's reading my mind, Agatha pipes up as the credits roll. "I saw Baz at the club yesterday."

I don't go to the club with Agatha. Partly because I don't want to and partly because I don't think  _ she  _ wants me to. I figure it'll be all posh people, like her and Baz. Eating foods I can't pronounce that probably don't taste that good anyway and wearing suits and staring down their noses at each other.

"Did you?" I ask, attempting one of the aforementioned prat's blasé responses but I'm sure it comes out too eager.

"Yes," she says stiffly, basically glaring daggers at me, "he said he didn't want to talk to me anymore and when I asked him why he just laughed and said he was surprised you hadn't already told me."

I don't have to feign confusion at that one. "He did?"

"Is this about that fight you had with him the day before we left? What did you say to him, Simon?"

"Nothing. Nothing about you."

She doesn't quite look like she believes me, but she also knows I'm a shite liar. "What were you supposed to have told me then?"

"I dunno, he just told me he wasn't interested in you." I want to stop there but the look in her eye tells me I haven't offered up near enough. "He said he was just messing with me."

"Are you making this up, Simon?"

That accusation actually hurts a little. "No, of course not. He told me himself."

"Did you consider its part of a plot?"

"We're not doing that anymore. Baz said he didn't want to fight anymore."

"That sounds a lot like a plot," Agatha says, still looking dubious but I think it's more so directed at Baz now than me. That one hurts a little too, honestly.

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Trust me, no one is more suspicious of Baz than I am and I know he's not plotting."

I think Agatha is about to say something more but thankfully, Penny interrupts.

"There you two are," she sweeps in and deposits herself beside me on the lounge, leaning forward so she can look past me at Agatha. "Mum just dropped me and left, but she says you can come stay with us tomorrow night if you want, Simon."

But just for one night. It's implied. I don't think Penny's Mum likes me very much.

Agatha sets on her the moment she stops speaking, "Did you know about this?" She gestures to me.

"About Simon? Only for five and a half years."

"About him and Baz," Agatha drawls out, "being friends."

Thinking back to our conversation the day before I left I can't help but interject, "we're not friends."

"Why is it always Baz with you two? There are other conversation topics you know." Agatha gives Penny a withering look at that, but Penny doesn't shy away from it. "If you must know, I thought it was obvious. Simon hasn't asked me to spy on one of his football games for months." She gives me a rather pointed look. "Also, he told me almost immediately. You two were just broken up at the time."

"So, what do you think?" Agatha presses her. "Is he really not evil?"

"I think I'd like to stop talking about Baz." Penny lets out an exasperated sigh. "I came to see my friends for Christmas and all they want to talk about is boys apparently."

"Penny," Agatha pushes again.

"Fine, no, I don't think he's evil."

"I think you're both barmy." Agatha actually sounds a little annoyed.

"Do you want him to be evil?" I take my turn to press her, I see Penny roll my eyes off to the side, I think she meant for me to. "Is that what you fancy in him, the evil?"

"It does have a certain appeal, doesn't it?"

"No." Penny and I say in tandem.

I mean, I would get it if she just fancied Baz because he's smart and fit and ruthless when it comes to getting what he wants. I still wouldn't like it, but I'd get it I suppose.

"Look, can we please just stop talking about, Baz?" I say it, but even as I say it I know I sound like Penny.

She must think so too because she gives me a look that falls somewhere between confused and proud, her eyebrows raised (blue, to match her hair this year) and her mouth pulled up into a half smile. "I second the motion."

Agatha relents eventually. "Fine, shall we go feed the horses?"

 

**Penny**

When Mum came to pick me up, Simon did decide to come spend a few days with us. Agatha didn't want to come, she seemed a little relieved I was taking Simon off her hands actually, said she wanted to go spend time with her Normal friends, though I can't imagine why.

I think things are awkward between Simon and Agatha since they broke up. I'm not sure if my presence helps or not. On one hand, Simon says it's easier when I'm around, but Agatha seems to perceive me as a threat, which is ridiculous. I'm not the least bit interested in Simon.

"Penny," Simon says, sitting up from his mattress on the floor of my room. He's tall enough that I can see the silhouette of his head over the side of my bed, curly hair noticeably askew, even through the darkness.

Simon sleeps in my room when he comes over, always has. I don't think he needs or even wants his own room. He's never mentioned it before but maybe that's just because he doesn't want to make a fuss. He's spent years sharing a room with several other boys, then years more sharing one with Basilton Pitch of all people. You'd think he'd want a space to himself (he has one at Agatha's) but he declines whenever we offer. I don't mind sharing, not with him, he's not half as bad as Trixie.

"Yeah?" I ask, sitting up as well as shifting to one side so he can clamber up beside me. "You alright?" It's late and usually, I'd just tell him to go to sleep, but something in his voice sounds almost hurt.

His weight dents the mattress beside me and I can feel him shift and fidget beside me. "Am I a burden?" he asks eventually.

"No, what makes you think that? Was it Agatha?" I say, immediately compiling a list of people who might need a stern talking to. Agatha. Mum. Pacey. It was probably Pacey, actually.

I feel more so than see him shrug. "Baz."

"Baz?" Despite being the one person who can get to Simon like this, I didn't even consider him. "I thought you two were good now?"

"We are... it's just..." He trails off this time instead of stumbling over his words. It's late and his voice is sluggish, his brain isn't working a mile a minute right now. So I just wait. "I don't know, we were talking and he said I'm like a child you have to look after."

I roll my eyes a little, mainly at Baz's inability to give it a rest for longer than thirty seconds. "Since when do you listen to Baz?"

"He’s right though, isn't he?" Simon pulls his knees up to his chest beside me and his head inclines downwards so I know he's looking at them instead of me. "You always help me fight whatever the Humdrum sends and you help with my homework, you warm up my scones for Merlin's sake."

I snort. It's a little undignified and Agatha would glare at me if she were here. "It's called being friends, Simon. Baz would know that if he'd ever had a proper friend in his life."

Simon doesn't say anything and I can practically feel the self-loathing rolling off him right now.

I place a hand on his back. "Simon, you're not a burden, you're my best friend. Fighting monsters with you is fascinating and helping you with your homework helps me learn too. Also, you pay me back for it tenfold by being good company."

His head turns a little to look at me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Even you don't have the power to make me do something I don't want to. The same thing goes for Basilton, if he does something it's because he wants to. I just don't think he's very good at admitting that he wants to."

Really, after years of helping Simon basically stalk the boy, I've picked up more than my fair share of insight into Baz Pitch. He's a prick, but an emotionally closed off prick.

"I thought we could be friends, you know?" Simon says slowly and it takes me a minute to realise he's talking about Baz.

"I can't imagine why you'd want that."

Simon laughs a little, under his breath, it's weak and tired but I think he means it. "Me neither until this year, but he's nicer when it's just the two of us."

"Friendlier?"

"Yeah. When I asked him if he wanted to be friends he told me it'd be like having a child, though."

"Don't ask him to be your friend, just declare that you are."

"I don't think that'll work, Pen."

"It worked on you," I remind him because that is basically what I did. "Look how well that turned out."

Simon gives a small sigh, "Thanks, Pen." Then I feel his weight lifting up beside me as he pulls himself out of bed and collapses back into a heap onto his mattress. "Goodnight."

"Night," I say, hoping I've helped even a little.

 

**Baz**

Snow and I return to Watford on the same day but we're both busy with our respective friends so we don't see each other in any more than passing until that night.

"Baz." He gives me a nod when I walk in after feeding.

I wonder how we're going to deal with that particular problem once we're friends. I never told Dev and Niall but I think it's just like with my family. They know, they just also know not to talk about it. Snow doesn't know not to talk about it and that worries me.

“Snow.”

“Good holiday?"

"Fine," is all I deign to reply to him with.

"Mine was great too Baz, thank you for asking," he says, sounding more amused than annoyed. So not still mad about what I'd said to him at least. Good. I wasn't sure if our new status as not-enemies would cause him to stew in that particular rage or get over it while we were apart.

I don't say anything.

It's a Sunday but I boot up my laptop anyway, sitting up in bed, just far enough to one side that Snow could join me if he wanted to.

He does. Bringing his mint aero bars and his blanket with him, which he drapes around the both of us this time. I regret feeding because it brings something of a flush to my face that is, if anything, probably only amplified by my unnaturally pallid skin.

We shouldn't stay up, we have classes tomorrow. It's not like we haven't had many late nights between us in the past few years, though.

And I missed him. But that's secondary.

I let him pick again because despite my protests I don't really mind what he picks as long as I get to watch it with him.

He tears into his chocolate bar, offering it to me and then tugging it back the moment I reach for some. "This time I  _ am  _ offering you friendship along with the chocolate."

"Can I have the chocolate without the friendship?" I ask, if only to irritate him.

He just smiles though. "Nope." He pops the ‘p’ on it before holding out the chocolate again.

I don't say anything as I break off a row but he gives a small sigh of what I think is relief and leans against me. He lets his head droop onto my shoulder, tucking it into the crook of my neck. He usually only does that when he falls asleep and even then it's more of a lolling motion than the nestling one he's doing now.

"Snow, what are-"

I don't finish. Instead, I'm cut off by a warm finger being placed against my lips and a murmur of, "Shh, we're friends," as if that somehow explains something.

But I don't really want him to stop, so I don't argue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a lot longer than expected, I've been 50 different kinds of busy so chapters may actually slow down a lot more than intended and I apologise for that, I just gotta get my shit in order first.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

**Baz**

Snow is waiting for me when I get out the bathroom in the morning.

Not patiently, not by a long shot.

"Hurry up, Baz." He hammers on the door and interrupting my morning shower.

I don't bother responding.

"We're going to be late for breakfast." It's more a whine than anything at this point and I think I hear him slump against the door.

"Then go to fucking breakfast, Snow," I call back.

"I will, but you need to hurry up."

Evidently, my response has only invigorated him because he's back to pounding on the door.

So, I take my time.

Eventually, the hammering stops but I don't think he's left yet. I only start to get out the shower and finish up my morning routine after he's relented.

He's lying in bed, on his back but he sits bolt upright when he sees me. "About time. I bet all the scones are gone." He's frowning at me and wrinkling his nose.

"Then why are you still here? It's not like you haven't gone to breakfast without brushing your teeth before."

"I was waiting for you." He says it like it's obvious, like it's just that easy for us to go from being mortal enemies to the kind of friends who walk down to breakfast together.

I roll my eyes at him even though he's doubled my heart rate. "Well next time, don't. Mornings are shitty enough without having you whining at me throughout."

He stares at me for a few moments, kind of squinting, it's his suspicious face. "I can never tell when you're being mean and when you're just teasing."

"I'm always being mean, Snow."

I push past him and head for the door. Not turning to continue our conversation, just walking off like it means nothing to me. Like he means nothing to me.

"Yeah, but you don't mean to be mean, not really." He catches up with me, despite his slightly shorter legs, bouncing down the stairs behind me, unperturbed by my obvious attempts to get rid of him.

"I definitely do."

"We're friends now though, yeah?" he asks even though he was the one who established that last night.

I give a sigh, trying as hard as I can to keep him at arm’s length despite every part of me crying out to just pull him closer. "If we must."

"Oh, we must," he nods, mocking me, though I suppose I've no leeway to be annoyed given how coldly I'm treating him. "So, does that mean we can sit together during meals?"

"Absolutely not."

I don't think I'd really thought that would be the end of that. Snow is nothing if not stubborn.

"You'd like Penny."

"Yes, and Dev likes Agatha," I don't feel concerned about selling out Dev like that, he's glaringly obvious and half the grade fancies Wellbelove anyway, though I can't fathom why. "So, unless you want him trying to nab your girlfriend we shouldn't sit together."

Snow just shrugs. Too bad he didn't lose that in the holidays along with his anger at me. "I'm not worried."

"Why not?" I ask because it doesn't make sense. Snow is terribly protective of Wellbelove, at least when it comes to me. I doubt it's only when it comes to me though.

"He's not as attractive as you."

If I'd been raised a lesser man, anything but a Pitch, I'd probably have spluttered at that. Or wept. Instead, I just raise an eyebrow at Snow, trying to quell the stirring in my chest at him being able to say something like that so casually.

"You don't think Dev's attractive?"

He's gotten better at speaking around me now that I'm not toying with him or mocking him all the time, but he still shrugs. "You tell me, you're the gay one."

I roll my eyes, the warmth generated by Simon Snow calling me attractive all but fizzling out in my chest. Almost. But not quite. "That's not how it works, Snow. Besides, he's my cousin."

"So?" Snow snorts. "Aren't all you posh bastards inbred anyway?"

And every ounce of tenderness he'd just forced into me was gone. "We're not the British Royal Family, Snow. I'm from the Egyptian branch of the Pitch family so I'm pretty sure my ancestors didn’t partake in that.”

Simon just gives a disbelieving hum and a doubtful look. It's all very exaggerated and he looks rather stupid doing it, which should be punishment enough, but I shove him anyway. Not hard, off to the side with one hand.

"At least I know who my family are," I add for good measure.

He just grunts and shoves me back but I don't budge. So he tries again with his shoulder.

I do stumble a little at the impact, but not so hard as to not return the gesture.

Honestly, I'm so caught up in Simon fucking Snow that I don't realise what idiots we must look like, walking up the path towards breakfast, attached at the shoulder and trying to shove each other off to the side. I'm glad most of the students are already at breakfast and don't have to witness this.

I step backwards, taking my weight away from Simon so he starts to fall in front of me. He trips and falls, flailing wildly as he goes down, not an ounce of dignity about him.

The smirk I give is more fondness than mockery, though I quickly remedy that as I step over him and keep walking on to breakfast.

"You only did that because you were losing." He yells after me.

"I didn't lose though did I?"

I shove my hands in my pockets, not bothering to glance over my shoulder as I speak to Snow.

Instead, I try to focus on the memory of him pressed against me from elbow to shoulder while he giggled. While I did too. And the memory of Simon Snow telling me I'm attractive. That one I'll treasure forever.

As it happens, Bunce has already left breakfast by the time we get there, as, tragically, have the scones. So, Snow does sit with me. Dev and Niall exchange glances both with each other and with me. For the most part, I lay off Snow, after all this is progress and I won’t like my overwhelming desire to mock everything he does ruin the task I've been given.

**Simon**

The magic ripples under my skin. Not soft waves of warmth like it sometimes is. Like it's bubbling up and trying to force its way out of me, pushing aside muscle and skin to try and tear free. Occasionally it does, a spark breaks the surface of my skin, a stabbing pain where it leaves and a burning jolt where it arcs back down onto my body.

I run hot, usually. I always feel just that little bit too warm, slightly uncomfortable. This isn't that. This is searing pain leaving scratches down my skin and feeling so hot I expect my skin to be blistered and burnt whenever I look down at it.

The walk from the weeping tower is a painful one.

The rain does little to fix the ache of my skin. It wouldn't. It's magical and ever continuing, it can't be stopped by regular means, not when it gets this bad.

I half consider just laying down in the middle of the courtyard and trying to settle. Letting the rain pelt down around me and knowing that if I go off no one will be close enough to get hurt in the fallout. Probably.

But mainly I just want to make it back to my room. I want to curl up under my blankets even though they'll only make me overheat more. I just want to hide. I want to not think about the Mage or the coming summer or the fact that he'll make me go back into care even though the Wellbelove's already told him they don't mind taking me.

I'm not upset with him, not really. I'm just scared I think. Scared to go back and pretend this never existed for another eight weeks.

"Snow." I'm pulled from my thoughts by someone walking through the rain towards me. "Crowley, Snow, I can smell you from our room. Get it together." Baz chastises me. There's an edge of softness to it though. Because for once he's not insulting me or pushing me further. And because he's out here, standing in the rain and trying to help me calm down, even if he has a funny way of going about it.

I don't say anything though, I just keep walking towards him, towards Mummer's house and our room and the safety of my bed. I wonder if Baz would leave me if I asked him to.

Even if he's in the rain, Baz isn't the type to let himself get rained on. He's got some kind of bubble around himself, it expands to cover me as well, so the rain isn't splattering against my skin anymore.

"Are you alright, Snow?" he asks slowly, walking with me.

The magic makes my body ache and I can feel my bones grind against each other with every movement, every fibre of my being alight with sensation. It hurts to move. It also hurts not to move. I'm so full of energy and power that it's impossible to stay still.

I just need to calm down.

"Snow," Baz tries again, this time placing a hand on my shoulder.

I halt immediately, whipping around to face him.

He retracts his hand just as quickly, sending me a glare. "I am not letting you go off in our room, all my stuff is there," he says by way of explanation.

But I'm not mad, I was just shocked and thinking and not thinking about anything that was actually happening around me. So, I silently reach for his hand and he lets me take it. It's cool and though it doesn't mute my magic it calms some of the prickling and burning If Baz feels it in my stead he doesn't show it.

"I'm fine," I say. He arches one perfect eyebrow at me and my obviously not fine, state, "let's just go home."

His eyebrow goes higher but he doesn't question me, just gives my hand a small tug and pulls me back towards Mummer's House, we're nearly there anyway.

"Just breathe, Snow, everything's going to be fine as long as you can keep yourself under control." His voice is softer than usual as he coaxes me along, leading me by the hand because he hasn't pulled back yet thankfully.

"Yeah?" I ask, just because I want him to keep talking, to keep distracting me.

He gives a slow nod. "Yeah. Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

That wasn't what I needed. I feel my magic rising to the surface again, even as Baz pushes open the door and we start trudging up the stairs to our room, me leaving a sopping trail in my wake.

"If you don't tell me what it is, we can't fix it." He prompts me. I think I feel him squeeze my hand, but I'm gripping his like a vice and he doesn't seem the type so maybe it's just a shudder raking my body.

"The Mage," I manage and I immediately feel Baz tense. Then he relaxes again and looks back at me, offering an uncharacteristic sympathetic smile. "He's going to send me back into care again. I'm sixteen," probably, "it's not like anyone is going to adopt me or anything."

"I mean, you have been adopted." Baz starts, pushing open the door to our room. I don't realise how loose his grip is until I release his hand and it immediately falls away, "by the Mage. He's your guardian, he should be taking care of you."

I throw myself into bed, dragging the covers up around me even though I'm still soaked through. "He's busy." I dismiss it with a weak wave of my hand. "But maybe the Wellbelove's, or Penny's family, or I'd even just stay here with Ebb."

It's still too much. Too much power, too much magic, too much everything. I feel like I'm being torn in all different directions. Like I need somewhere for all the excess to go. But I can't just let it go. That would destroy everything. So, I just curl up tighter and try to force it back down.

I don't need to see him to know the way Baz's lip curls in distaste when he casts, " **Dry as a bone** ".

I hear his bed creak as Baz goes and sits on it. "That's bullshit," he says.

"It keeps me closer to the language," I repeat the Mage's words to me not half an hour ago.

Baz scoffs, "Bullshit. Being there doesn't keep you closer to the language. You spoke like a toddler when you first came here."

I lift my head up to glare at him but it's weak. He's right. Even if he's insulting me.

"I just mean," this time he sighs, "it's obviously not helping. Do you have books or movies or anything resembling words there?"

I shove my face back into the pillow and shake my head into it. I'm still angry. Still mad at the Mage. My magic isn't as strong though, it isn't jabbing at me as hard.

"You have a right to be mad."

No, I don't.

I tell Baz as much, my magic pushing up against my skin again, trying to push through. "He brought me here, gave me all this-"

"Snow," Baz cuts me off insistently and for once I don't try to talk over him, I just let him, "You're, allegedly, the Greatest Mage, this is where you belong. If the Mage didn't bring you someone else would have."

"Yeah but he-"

"You owe him nothing, Snow." There's a fierceness to his voice and I don't look up to see the expression on his face but I don't think it's a smirk, a sneer or a snarl so I can't visualise it. "In the interests of our new found... friendship," he all but spits the word, "I shall say this just once. You deserve better than this, Snow. You're allowed to want more."

My magic has calmed some at his words, it's more a soft buzz than a searing pain now. I'm still angry. If anything, I'm angrier than I was before, so I’m not sure why my magic simmered down. Maybe because now I'm letting myself feel angry. Because I feel like it's okay to be angry right now, about this, even with everything the Mage has done for me.

"Now get up and go shower, you reek of smoke and if you sleep all damp like that your bedsheets will go mouldy."

I do drag myself out of bed. Or more so roll out. Not the way they do in movies, quickly and gracefully. Sluggishly and nearly toppling onto the floor because I've gone from being so full of energy back to normal but it just leaves me feeling depleted and tired.

I think back for a moment about the conversation we had before Christmas break and wondering if right now I'm being a burden on Baz. I try not to think about it.

I do turn to him for a moment. "Thanks."

He just turns those narrowed grey eyes on me. "Shower. Now."

**Baz**

It feels wrong.

Not just being nice (well, nicer than usual) to Snow. It feels wrong to only be doing it to manipulate him away from the Mage. It's true though, he does deserve better, better than all of this.

Maybe when our friendship has progressed a little more, I'll invite him to ours for the Summer.

It's not like my family has any intention of staying the Mage's good graces.

It's not like the Mage could actually  _ stop  _ Snow from doing what he wanted if Snow wasn't at his beck and call.

Part of me thinks that maybe this, everything I'm doing to Snow, is okay, as long as I can make things better for him. I can make sure he never has to go without food again and make sure he knows he's something more than just a weapon for the Mage to use (even if that's exactly how the families intend to use him).

Maybe just maybe, we'll both come out of this alive and on the same side and still friends.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids, I know it's been over a week, I'm very sorry I'm just also VERY BUSY. So I haven't actually written the chapter after this as my rules usually dictate but i figure it had been a long enough wait! Alas I've still got assessments till Friday so I wont be updating again for a good while yet but oh well. I promise I'll get it to yall as soon as I can, it just so happens that as soon as I can is a fair distance right now. 
> 
> Once again I rlly don't have time to reply to the comments, but I love you all and I will reply to ALL OF THEM as soon as all these fking assessments fk the fk off. Anyways thanks fam <3

**Simon**

Baz isn't in our room when I get back from dinner. We've been spending more time there of late, now that we're not at each other's throats constantly. But he doesn't come back, not even after when he's usually finished feeding.

I try to go to sleep and promptly give up on that.

So, I sit up on the edge of the bed and wait for him. I'd feel like a cross parent waiting for a child out after curfew like in one of those movies we watched, but every time I stop bouncing my leg it starts up again whenever I take my mind off it, echoing small taps throughout the room.

My mind won’t stop whispering about everything that could be wrong. He could have been caught hunting by a student, he could have run into something in the wood, he could have been set upon by the Mage (Baz insists that's a possibility one day even though I think its complete shit).

Eventually, I snap.

I shuck on a pair of sneakers and throw my Watford jumper on, even though it scratches against the bare skin beneath. Then I rush out the door to find him.

I check the library first, figuring he might be studying. He'd been having trouble with a spell today in elocution, worked himself up into a right strop about it too.  **Walking on air** , it makes you hover a little but you need to be happy to cast it. I didn't manage it, but that wasn't a surprise, I never manage anything. Baz didn't do it either though. I don't think I've ever actually seen him fail a spell before.

As it happens, Baz is not in the library.

Or the dining room.

Or the catacombs.

At least as far as I could tell. I yelled into the catacombs and got no response. We're friends now, he'd respond, wouldn't he? I considered delving deeper into the labyrinth but figured I should search the rest of the grounds first.

I'm marching along the ramparts looking across the school grounds for any sign of Baz. At first, I don't see anything, not inside the walls. There's a light on the football pitch though. Magical, and floating around in seemingly random patterns.

I'm not entirely sure it is Baz but I race down from the ramparts and out across the (thankfully) still lowered drawbridge.

It is Baz. I can tell as I get closer. The way the floating light reflects off his skin makes him seem paler than normal and his features are still pulled into a tight scowl as he boots his football into the goal, summoning back to him with a flick of his wand, only to repeat the process.

"Snow," he says as I approach, not bothering to look at me, "What are you doing here?"

I'd thought he'd been too enraptured with taking his anger out on the football to notice me approaching, evidently, I was wrong.

"Looking for you."

That gives him pause. He summons the ball back to him and traps it under his foot. That strange, fluorescent floating light casting shadows across his sharp features as he raises an eyebrow at me. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so blunt.

"Why?" He levels a cold gaze at me and I meet it with a warm smile. He doesn't react to that.

I shrug. "It's late and you weren't in our room. You're usually back by now."

He scoffs and takes a swipe at the ball with a new ferocity that sends it hard into the net. "I thought we agreed the stalking would stop."

Typical Baz. Always making everything out to be worse than it is. "It's not stalking, it's concern."

He scoffs.

" _ Friendly concern _ ." I drag the words out, laden with enough emphasis to make Miss Possibelf proud.

"Well as you can see, there's no reason to be concerned, so head back before the drawbridge comes up." He eyes the ball still sitting in the edge of the goal, probably so he doesn't have to look at me.

"You coming?"

"No."

I shake my head, even though he isn't looking. "Then I'm not going."

Baz doesn't say anything, just summons his ball back and pointedly ignores me.

"Kick it here," I say, partially because he needs to stop wasting magic (even if he has an abundance of it) and partially because I just want to. I like football, even if I rarely get the chance to play anymore.

He deliberates for a moment before passing it to me.

I pass back, though with less precision and a little too much force. Baz manages to stop it anyhow.

We pass the ball back and forth in a comfortable silence for a while. He gets it directly to me on every shot and scoffs when I go wide and he has to run for it. Eventually, I think he gets sick of running because he starts kicking it to the side of me as well.

"Fuck off, are you doing that on purpose?" I accuse him, even though I know it's true.

"Obviously," the bastard doesn't even try to deny it, "I'm just playing like you do."

I set my jaw and kick it intentionally further away from him this time. I half expect it might actually go to him for once, but it doesn't, it goes further and Baz scowls before pointing his wand and summoning it back. Then he kicks it several meters to the left of me and it shoots past.

I don't know that bloody summoning spell of his so I flip him the bird and jog after it.

And that's how the game goes. Baz booting the ball off into the distance. Me chasing it for a few dozen meters and trying to do the same only to have him magically call the ball back.

He gives the ball a particularly vicious kick and it goes flying past me. Deciding it's probably not going to come to rest within a hundred meters I fold.

"Fuck you," I growl stalking towards Baz who's standing in front of the goal. He moved there shortly after realising I couldn't aim for shit. Not that my aim was actually that bad really.

He sighs, loudly, obviously exasperated but probably not so exasperated to warrant the intensity of the sigh. "Go get the ball, Snow."

I toss myself down onto the ground only to find it's slightly damp. It's too late now though, I've made my move and now I need to abide by it, wet arse or no. I lean my back against the goal post and watch as Baz summons the ball back, muttering out a "prick" under his breath.

He starts juggling it. Bouncing it from knee to knee and down to his foot and off the top of his head so many times I lose count. Eventually, I remember why I came here.

"You know it's alright, yeah?" I ask. Baz gives me a quizzical look but doesn't falter. "To not be amazing at everything."

It seems to take a moment for him to process what I'm saying. He looks annoyed and it only makes me more sure I've guessed the cause of his mood right. I've always had a more extensive understanding of Baz than most, I had to, he was my worst enemy. So, I'm not surprised I was right about him being irritated at himself for messing up the spell. He doesn't seem all that surprised at my guess either.

I'm half waiting for him to deny it, but he doesn't.

"Those words are meaningless from someone who isn't amazing at anything." His tone is as cold as the night air creeping through the fleece of my jumper, but not half as pleasant.

I roll my eyes at him. "Give it a rest for two minutes, I'm trying to be nice."

"Don't."

**Baz**

Just when I finally think I've managed to get Snow off my back he speaks again.

"Baz, are you lonely?"

My body betrays me in that moment of shock. I drop the fucking ball and the squelch it makes when it collides with the wet ground I fear may be imprinted into my memory forever alongside this awful moment.

"No," I keep my voice level despite the overwhelming urge to hiss at him, "why would you think that?"

"The spell required you to be happy, didn't it? That was why you couldn't do it."

I don't respond to him. "You couldn't do it either, are you unhappy?"

He shakes his head, curls slowly getting weighed down by water as they brush across the goal where he's leaning. "I don't think so. I think I'm just shite."

"Sounds about right."

I half expect him to get mad, but he doesn't. "You're brilliant though, you should be able to do it."

I sit cross-legged opposite him pretending the water on the ground isn't freezing and biting into me. He claps his hands twice in front of him and I concede, rolling the ball towards him.

He rolls it back towards me. Evidently, he still wants to play, so I indulge him because that's what friends are supposed to do.

We push it back and forth between us for a while, the light I cast earlier slowly fading till it's gone and were encased in darkness. At least, Snow is, I can see perfectly fine. Somehow, he still manages to get the ball to me, though I suppose it would be a feat for him not to given were less than a meter apart.

"If you're not lonely then what is it?"

He catches me off guard again and this time I can't fight the anger that flares up inside of me. I'm not even sure what I'm angry about. Snow making me fall in love with him? My father for making me get close to him? The entire fucking universe for killing my mother and turning me into a monster?

"None of your business," I snap, shoving the damp, slippery ball towards him with as much force as I can muster.

It was not a smart move. Snow manages to deflect it but not grab it, instead, it flies up and hits me in the face.

Snow bursts into laughter in front of me as I rub my nose. It's not broken again, thank magic, though I'm not sure I could break it this way.

As Snow leans forward gasping for air between giggles I regather the ball and toss it at his now  bowed head. It bounces off and I manage to catch it this time, settling it into my lap and folding my arms on top in case Snow gets any ideas about retribution.

"Arsehole." He says, still laughing a little and rubbing his head.

"Are you lonely?" I ask when Snow finally collects himself and leans back against the goal again.

Even in the dark, I see him shake his head, though it's not as sure as the usual head shakes. "I have Penny."

I note he says Penny and only Penny. The Mage's name doesn't come to his lips. Nor, interestingly enough, does Wellbelove's. Because I'm nothing if not cruel, I point this out. "Yes, but you  _ only  _ have Bunce."

He looks up at me and I expect rage or sadness but all I get is a question. "What about you?"

I sigh because really, I thought we'd already covered this. "I have Dev and Niall and Fiona-"

"No," he cuts me off and I'm glad because I was pretty much at the end of my list. "I mean, do I have you too?"

I feel my expression soften some and I loathe myself for it, but I speak anyway. "Yeah Snow, yeah you do."

I see him smile at me even through the darkness, I think he means for me to as well. Then he looks back towards Watford for a moment, his expression falters and he mutters out a quick, "Shit".

I don't ask what's wrong, I just follow his gaze, the drawbridge is up, of course. It's not like I intended to go back tonight, I think Snow did though.

"Could you use  **Open sesame** to bring it down?" he asks, his head turning back to look at me.

I shrug and hate myself for it. Apparently, I'm already picking up some of Snow's bad habits. " **Open sesame** would wake up the entire school. My aunt told me about a spell she and her friends used to sneak out but I doubt I could manage it on that scale."

Snow doesn't listen to me, probably because he's an idiot. He just stands and brushes himself off before offering me a hand. "Come on, you should try."

I take his hand not because I believe I can do it but because I want to touch his hand. The warmth of his palm in mine is all too fleeting as he pulls me to my feet.  

"I think I've done enough magic for one day," I tell him, even though I never feel like I've done enough magic. I think maybe I've just failed at enough magic for one day.

"I'll help," he offers with a lot of confidence for someone who can barely manage the most basic of spells.

I cast a quick **Dry as a bone** and shove my hands in my pockets for some semblance of warmth. I don't bother casting it on Snow as he squares his shoulders and marches towards the drawbridge like he can intimidate it into lowering. I follow though, walking alongside him and dribbling the ball.

It's not a long walk and it's done in a mostly comfortable silence.

"Give me your hand," he says as I place my foot on the ball to stop it.

I narrow my eyes at him even as I fight off the desire to reach out to him. "Why?"

"I want to try something."

"Try what?"

"You'll see."

"No. Tell me."

"Trust me, Baz, we're not enemies any more remember?"

I hesitate but every second his hand is stretched out for mine I can feel my resolve crumbling. He gives a mighty sigh and lets his hand fall but I catch it and the intake of breath he does makes it sound like he’s trying to suck the sigh back into his lungs. His hand is warm and drier than I expected. I think he rubbed the water from the ball off onto his jeans.

I don't have time to dwell on it though because suddenly I feel a surge of power through my body and now it's my turn to gasp. "Simon, what?" is what I say because really those are the only two words that feel coherent right now.

Is this what he always feels like? Power thrumming through his veins. So unbelievably warm. Completely limitless.

No wonder he charges into danger so often, I feel almost invincible.

He's saying something and it takes me a moment to hone in on the words. "Cast it."

"What?" I feel drunk and woozy and so alarmingly awake all at once.

"Cast it, lower the drawbridge."

Right. Yes. That's what we're doing.

" **Who's that tramping over my bridge?** " It's a line from the Three Billy Goats Gruff. It wasn't a story I was told as a kid, nor one I studied so I'm almost entirely sure that even with all this magic that it won't work though.

It does.

The drawbridge creaks and starts to lower.

"Shit." I breathe out, more in amazement than anything. I swivel my head to look at Snow as he withdraws his hand.

"You called me Simon," he says sounding almost as amazed as I feel. Really after what we just did, I can't believe that's what he's focusing on.

"No, I didn't," I protest, snapping back to my sense now that his magic is gone. I feel empty and weak and so very finite, like every part of me is mourning its loss.

"You did." He rushes alongside me, drawing the words out into a taunt.

I ignore him, I've fought with Snow long enough to know that if I let this continue it will dissolve into us yelling 'did not' and 'did so' at each other for the next hour unless I push him to the merwolves or change the subject. "What was that?"

Snow shrugs again. "I felt it when I was going to go off last time when you grabbed my hand," he says the words slowly like he's thinking through the problem as he explains it, "like I could just let go and it would all go into you."

He takes my hand again after we cross and I raise my wand, this time managing to keep enough of my mind to cast  **As you were** before I start to revel in Simon's magic again.

I think Snow's tired. Admittedly, I'm tired too, even after being supercharged twice. We don't say much as we return to our room. I'm too busy pouring over the possibilities of what this means and the potential of it. I wonder if the Mage knows Snow can do this. I don't ask. I don't want to give him ideas.

I dress in the bathroom and don't even bother to protest when Snow opens the window this time, just letting myself fall into bed. 

Snow's already in bed and I hear him shift onto his side to face me. "I know you said you weren't lonely but just so you know, you have me too."

I'm almost angry at him for bringing it up again but I can't be. Not at that. "Thanks, Snow."

"No," he says and for a moment I'm worried he's taking it back, "it's Simon now, remember?"

Before he even gets the last word out I've pulled my pillow out from under my head and swung it across to hit him in the face so the words are muffled.

"Git," he growls, tugging hard on my pillow till it leaves my grasp.

I don't bother going to get it. Instead, I just hike the blankets up over my head. I'll steal the pillow back tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, the wait is over! I'm finally fucking done with assessments so updates will be more regular. 
> 
> Also cheers to everyone who responded to my tumblr post asking for advice re:Penny's textbook reading style even though it was only like 1 sentence. So thanks! Yall made some good points.
> 
> Still, hope yall like, we're getting into it proper now I promise

**Baz**

"Why don't you ever eat?" Snow asks one afternoon as we walk back to our room side by side. That's something we do now, walk together.

We sit together too, which is why Snow's question irritates me so. He comes over to  _ my  _ table, sits with me and then has the audacity to ask about my eating habits. At least he waited until we were alone.

I always thought Snow was completely tactless, but then his sidekick sat down beside us like it was exactly where she belonged and pointedly informed us she was not there to make friends.

"Two friends is enough," she'd said, "I'm just here to make sure you don't poison his tea."

I'd told her I didn't need to poison Snow's meal. If he keeps eating butter the way he does, high cholesterol will take him out before I have the chance.

Snow kicked me under the table at that.

It was all entirely too friendly and I enjoyed it more than I dare admit.

"Baz, why don't you eat?" Snow presses me again. I incline my head towards him slightly and raise an eyebrow, wondering how best to convey that he's not getting an answer to that.

"I do."

"Not at meal times. Are you telling me you survive on salt and vinegar crisps?"

"No," I tell him again, changing the subject before he can try again. "Why doesn't Wellbelove sit with us?" It's a valid question and if Snow puts me on the spot I'm more than happy to return the favour.

"We broke up." He shrugs like he always does, but the hint of a smile on his face doesn't falter.

Interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him pulling my lips into a thin line. "You're taking it well."

He shrugs again. Apparently, his gestures are as extensive as his vocabulary. "It's not so bad when you're not involved."

I don't say anything to that. I'm not sure how I could even begin to respond to that statement.

Snow powers on anyway. "We'll get back together again, we always do. I'm not worried."

"Shouldn't you be more distraught?"

"Distraught?" He asks like the word is foreign to his tongue. "Why would I be distraught?"

"Because she's your girlfriend, Snow, don't you want to be with her?"

Maybe he's already cried onto Bunce's shoulder about it, maybe that's why he's fine but really his spirits don't seem dampened in the least.

"I do  _ want  _ to be with her. I'm _ going to be  _ with her, she's my destiny. We're just not together right now."

I used to mourn the fact that Snow and I could never be together. Now I'm thinking that's probably for the best. Several years of pining after Snow can't be half as bad as dating him, breaking up and having him acting like  _ this _ . 

I'd always thought this friendship thing would lead to Snow gushing to me about Wellbelove or whining about their break up. I thought that would tear me apart. His indifference is somehow worse.

"Anyway," he changes the topic, not like I did, not out of panic, simply because he wants to. "Why don't you ever eat?"

"You've seen me eat Snow."

"Chocolate and crisps don't count."

I roll my eyes. "I'm going to practice my violin," I tell him, turning away and making towards the music rooms instead of our room.

"Cool, can I listen?" He asks following along even though he already told me he needs to go back to our room and finish an assignment we've got due tomorrow.

"No."

"But-"

"Snow, if you can understand that your girlfriend needs space surely you can understand that I,  _ your roommate _ , who  _ lives _ with you and has to put up with you at all hours, would like a little solitude." It somehow feels both crueller and kinder than just tell him to leave me the fuck alone. Even if I don't want him to go. Ever. I need to get away from this conversation before it kills me.

He shifts his backpack higher on his shoulder like he does when he's nervous. He does it constantly at the beginning of term because he loses weight and he refuses to use both the straps to keep it on. He's not stick thin right now though, just uncomfortable.

"Right, sorry for bothering you," he snaps, not sounding sorry at all as he storms off in the other direction.

Fuck.

**Simon**

Baz is a dick.

It's not news, it's just particularly relevant to my life right now. He's been alright lately, since we decided we were friends. Apparently, that couldn't last though.

Penny finds me in my room quickly enough, where I am, for lack of a better word, sulking. I think she'd decided that since Baz and I are friends now (I suppose) that he won’t dob her in for sneaking into our room. I'm not sure that's a completely correct assumption though. I don't mention it, right now I'm just happy she's here.

I don't even object when she throws herself down on Baz's bed. If he doesn't want her there he can deal with it himself.

"You're in a right mood," she comments, pen in hand, occasionally scribbling things into what I'm fairly sure is a library book.

"I'm not, " I more snap than object. I immediately feel bad, after all, it's not Penny I'm annoyed at.

Penny gives me her most condescending look, the one she usually uses exclusively for her younger siblings. "Is it Agatha?"

"It's Baz." My admission somehow her expression grows  _ more  _ exasperated. "And kind of Agatha I guess."

Penny doesn't say anything, she just waits. She lets me get it together before I explain problems. Granted she also offers advice and opinions before I'm done, but I don't really mind.

"Am I not taking this break up seriously enough?"

"I thought you said you Baz wasn't interested in Agatha."

"He's not, Baz is a problem for different reasons."

"Which are?"

I roll over, flopping hard onto my back and raking a hand through my hair. "It's like this right- Baz, thinks I'm not upset about Agatha."

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"You can perhaps see how he might think that then?"

"No, but then he told me to leave him alone and I got all annoyed."

"Baz speaking and you getting annoyed isn't really a cause for concern."

"No but I don't get upset when Agatha stops talking to me, so why Baz?"

"I feel like we're on the cusp of something here, Si," Penny says, giving me a more than pointed look. It's her 'I told you so' face, but I'm not ready to face that reality so I ignore it.

"No."

"Right, well come get me when you figure it out." She snaps her book closed and shoves her pen into her bun as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey," I stand up myself ready to stop her leaving, even if she really shouldn't be here.

I don't have to. She stops anyway. "What Simon, you don't want me to leave?"

I back off a little but don't sit back down in case she decides to make off after all. "Of course not, why would you think that?"

"You don't care if Agatha goes."

Oh no. She's using that tone of voice she likes when she's helping me out with homework but she won't just tell me the answer because I need to 'learn to work things out for myself'.

"I care if you go!"

"Or Baz," she adds. "So..."

"So what?"

Penny throws her hands up, she was never good at holding onto the answer once she'd worked it out anyway. "So, you don't like Agatha. Or maybe you just don't want to date her, whatever, point is, it's not meant to be."

"But she's my destiny."

Penny rolls her eyes. "Really, this again? This time I actually am leaving, I need to study."

I barely register it that time, I just sit back down on my bed. The door opens and shuts behind me and I can't help but wonder if maybe Penny's right. I don't want to hear that though.

So, I try not to think about it. 

**Baz**

Snow's in a strop when I get back to our room. Not a proper rage. His magic is calm (or as calm as it ever gets) but his feathers are obviously ruffled and I'm half sure I'm the cause of it.

It's not ideal, but in the grand scheme of things, it's interesting.

"Snow," I greet because we are trying to be amicable after all.

"Good practice?" He snaps back at me, not a hint of his earlier cheeriness.

I nod even though I know it'll only piss him off more, "Excellent."

He huffs, "Can't've been that good if you wouldn't let other people hear it."

Oh joy, he's properly mad. I'm not sure how I'm going to explain this to father. 'So sorry, I fucked everything up because Snow told me he wasn't upset about not spending time with his girlfriend and it ruined the elaborate fantasy of our own forbidden romance that I have spent the past six years constructing', that'll go down well.

I know realistically, that it's not going to happen like that. Snow will come round, he's not the type to hold grudges. His unending loyalty to the Mage despite being treated like shit is a testament to that.

I ignore his attempts at goading me because he does know it's that good, he used to spy on me during lessons and we both know it."Did you get your assignment done?"

"What?" He knows what I'm talking about, I think I've just caught him off guard.

"The Magic Words assignment you have due tomorrow that you were going to put off to come listen to me play."

And just like that Snow hops up from his bed and marches over to his desk, slamming himself down in his chair with enough force that I'm surprised the floor doesn't give out below him.

"Shit," he mutters more to himself than me, "shit, shit, shit," a freckled hand parts his bronze curls. "This is your fault." He narrows an accusatory glare at me.

"Excuse me? How is it my fault you didn't do your assignment?"

He points a finger at me, "Because you pissed me off. Is this all part of some plot Baz?"

Honestly, if it weren't for Simon Snow my ability to questioningly raise one eyebrow wouldn't be half as powerful as it is, he gives me quite the workout. "Right, me not letting you come to my violin practice so you'd work on your assignment was actually some grand scheme to make sure you forgot it?"

"So, you admit it?"

"You're an actual buffoon."

He huffs and folds his arms across his chest but only for a moment before he starts scrambling around for a pen and paper. Good, he really doesn't have the time. He writes furiously for several minutes, creating what I hope is a passable essay, while I prepare for dinner.

There's no way he's finished, but he stops writing when I finish putting my things away.

"Baz, why didn't you really tell me to piss off?" he asks without turning to look at me, one hand tugging his hair taught.

Did it really bother him that much?

I can't tell him the truth obviously, but I give something close. "You kept asking about my eating habits."

Snow finally faces me, his expression shifting through several emotions, nervous, confused, angry. It settles on sympathetic eventually. I hate it.

"Is it a vampire thing or an anorexia thing?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. I suppose I was going to have to tell him eventually. I don't like it though, if this all goes to hell (and that's quite a likely if) I shouldn't be arming him with this kind of confession. I could always deny it though if he tells anyone or presses me.

"Vampire thing," I admit in a mocking snarl because I'm not sure how else to do it. How do you tell someone who spent years trying to convince the school you're a monster that they were right?

"But you eat in front of me when we watch movies." Despite my aggression, he's still relatively calm, eyebrows pulled inwards and examining me like if he stares hard enough everything will just come pouring out. I'm not sure it won’t.

I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed. I don't mind being late for dinner, least of all for Snow. "It's dark and you're distracted."

He nods to himself for a few moments before he goes back to staring at the few lines of scribbled black ink across the top of his page. I don't think he's going to say anything but he's also not writing so I suppose it's my turn.

"Why did it rile you up so much, me not letting you come?"

He looks up again, blue eyes wide and unless I'm mistaken, a little ashamed. "Because I thought maybe you were proving a point about Agatha and I thought maybe you were right."

He gives a loud sigh and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the paper in front of him.

Proving a point about Agatha?

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Does this mean that Simon Snow misses my presence more than his girlfriend's? I don't know what to do with that.

I stand. "My essay is in the top drawer of my desk, look at it if you get stuck but don't copy it because they'll know it was you who copied me."

"How?"

"Because it's good."

Snow grunts and I can basically see him roll his eyes. "Tosser."

"I'll bring you back a plate from dinner, okay?" I don't so much offer as simply tell him. It's weak and soft and I hate it. But he's reduced my insides to a molten mess right about now so I can't bring myself to care.

"With extra roast beef," he pipes up as I head for the door.

"Get fucked," I scoff.

In the end, I do get him extra though.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once I have nothing to say here...

**Simon**

Summer break is steadily approaching and there's nothing I can do about it except try not to think about it. There's only so much I put off doing though.

We're about a week out from the end of term when I finally decide to give in and buzz my hair. I don't like this bit. It’s just hair, I know it doesn't mean anything but it always feels like the line between being the chosen one and just some other Normal orphan. Still, I suppose it has to be done.

I turn the electric shaver on but the second I raise it to my head it flicks off again.

I consider for a moment that maybe it's a sign from the universe but I doubt the universe cares whether or not I cut my hair.

I turn it on again and just as quickly it turns off.

I bang it against the porcelain of the sink a few times and the clatter echoes throughout the bathroom. "What the shit?" I stop before I break either sink or shaver which is a real possibility. There's nothing like making a hard job harder.

"Don't cut it," I swivel around to see Baz leaning against the bathroom door, casual as can be, wand grasped loosely in one hand.

"Why not?" I ask through gritted teeth, my frustration once again directed at Baz now that I know he's the one causing it.

He rests his head against the doorframe, keeping his face far too nonchalant to just be messing with me, not a sneer insight. "It suits you."

I feel my anger melt away for a moment and I feel my expression soften. We've been doing this friendship thing for a while now but this is probably the closest I've ever gotten to receiving a compliment from Baz.

"It- It does?" I somehow manage to sputter out despite my shock.

His lip gives that tell-tale quirk that means he's about to say something shitty, "It's a mess, like you."

Usually, I'd be mad, but this time I just huff a small laugh. He's right. I'm not even sure he knows how right he is. "Fuck off, I need to cut it. Stop messing with me a get out." I shoo him away with my free hand but he doesn't move.

"Why?"

I shrug, attempting to manage some of Baz's composure. "I'm going back into care. I'd probably catch lice and it's not exactly like I have shampoo or anything." Most of the time I don't even have a brush, not that I'd be able to get one through my curls.

His eyebrows dip in the middle, an expression I seldom see on his face and vanishes in moments. "Don't go back," he says like somehow, it's that easy.

I roll my eyes and turn back to the mirror flicking the device back on. "You already know I have to. The Mage said so." Again, as soon as I get it close to my hair it turns right back off.

I round on Baz and manage to catch him lowering his wand but he looks exactly as unphased as usual. "The Mage already hates my family, you could stay with us."

In the same way, Baz has always had an unparalleled ability to rile me up, he can apparently use his powers for good and calm me right back down. "Thanks, but I don't think that'll go down well."

Baz scoffs. "Why not? Is the Mage going to make the trip to Hampshire and drag you out?"

"He might."

He probably will.

"Snow, as someone who's actively been trying to fuck you over for years, I assure you, there's no way to force you to do something you don't want to." I open my mouth to object but Baz waves it away before I can say anything. "Besides, if you don't want to go to Hampshire we could stay with my Aunt."

"She hates me."

"She hates the Mage more. She'd let you stay just to piss him off."

I'm running out of arguments but I shake my head anyway, unsure what else to say but still needing to refuse his offer.

He narrows his eyes at me for a moment. "I think the Mage would agree to it. Tell him I invited you, he'd do anything to spy on The Families, he'll let you come."

I'm looking anywhere but Baz, trying not to let him convince me to disobey the Mage. Because I don't  _ want  _ to disobey the Mage, even if I don't want to go into care either. What Baz is suggesting wouldn't really be disobeying the Mage though.

"I won’t see him before the holidays, there's no time to ask."

"Then we'll ask when he comes to take you away."

"Baz." I practically growl it. I don't know why he's pushing this but it's starting to feel a whole lot like part of a plot. "Why do you care?"

He shoots me a glare. "I don't."

"You obviously do."

"I absolutely don't."

"You absolutely do." I mock back at him.

Baz gives a short sigh, almost like a huff of defeat. Baz Pitch doesn't get defeated though, certainly not this quickly. "I don't care. I just think if you're supposed to save the world you shouldn't spend a month and a half every year starving and unable to practice magic."

I finally go to meet his gaze but now he's not looking at me, instead, he's glaring daggers at the floor.

"That's not your responsibility, Baz." My voice is softer, not a hint of mockery because I've known Baz long enough to tell when he's worried. The subtle way he sucks on his fangs when I'm speaking and how his glare only intensifies as I try to diffuse things.

His eyes dart up to meet mine and they're cold but I think he's just trying to make me think he really doesn't care. "Then who's is it."

I know it's a mistake as soon as I say it but it's automatic, "The Mage."

"The offer's there. You can come and stay with me where there's movies and food and shampoo for fuck's sake," he gives me a pointed look, "or you can do what the Mage says and have a miserable summer. Your choice."

Then he just turns around and walks off, closing the bathroom door behind him.

I eye the clippers for a few moments before turning them back on. Tentatively I raise them to my hair, waiting for them to flick off again but it doesn't come.

This time it’s me who turns them off, with a loud sigh.

_ Shit _ .

I hate it when he wins.

**Baz**

Snow comes out of the bathroom with his hair fully intact. Thank snakes.

He does the same the next night.

And the one after.

And all the ones leading up to the day we leave for summer break.

"So, you're coming with me then?" I ask, packing what I'll need for break, it's not much, just my Greek and Latin textbooks so I can do some summer reading.

Snow looks up from where he's sitting on his bed, tugging on the frayed edges of a pair of tracksuit pants he's still not packed. His head jerks up to look at me and I can see an indent in his lower lip where he's been biting it. "Yes, please," he nods, looking more than a little nervous.

Really though, what is the Mage going to do? Waltz up to Pitch manor with his merry men and drag the Chosen One away kicking and screaming? That'll go down well with the coven.

"Good, I already told my family you were coming." I  _ did _ actually. Before I'd even asked Snow himself I ran it by my father. He looked like he may actually jump for joy.

Snow tugs harder on one of the threads he's toying with and the bottom of the trackies start to unravel. "Were they mad?"

"Crowley, no. It's a big house they'll barely even notice you."

He nods to himself this time. "Thank you."

"Are you still worried about the Mage?"

"Yeah."

"Does he drop you there, to where you usually stay?"

Snow shakes his head.

"Does he pick you up? Does he even come visit?"

More head shaking. It makes my blood boil though I do my best not to show it. I half hope the Mage does show up to try and take Snow away because if he does I might just spell him into oblivion.

"Well, then how will he ever know? I'll have them sent a letter saying you've been allowed to stay at school over the summer. I doubt they'll protest."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Isn't it illegal to make a home take in someone who technically has a guardian?"

Snow shrugs and honestly, I don't know either but it sounds like it should be.

I sit down opposite him and carefully tug the tracksuit pants out of his grip. He tries to pull them back but I'm faster. "We'll get you a new pair. Some that actually fit, we can go shopping tomorrow."

"It's fine-" he starts.

"It's not fine. It's also not a request. We're going. I can't take you to the club in your uniform."

Snow wrinkles his nose at that but relents on the pants. I promptly toss them into his waste paper basket. I'll deal with them when we come back if they're still there.

"Do I have to come to the club."

"Yes." He absolutely does have to. Word will get back to the Mage almost certainly, if not from the Wellbelove's then from some other family who's loyal to the Mage. I did promise the Families they'd get to meet him though because the Mage never showed him around. It's harmless as long as I'm there to make sure none of them can do him in. "You'll like it, they don't have Watford scones but they have other ones and different pastries entirely. It changes every day."

"Agatha always said I wouldn't like it."

I scoff. Though I'm irked by Wellbelove keeping Snow out of that part of her life (probably because of his atrocious table manners), I can't help but be a little bit grateful we never had the chance to make a scene there. I almost certainly would have tried to drown him in the soup and I doubt the other people there would have liked it. That and the inevitable shouting matches.

"You'll like it well enough. The food is delicious, we can play tennis or football or whatever you want and if you really want we can probably catch Wellbelove at lunch." Granted the people there are all sharks in human skin but Snow is a moron and he won’t notice unless I tell him.

He still seems a little unsure but really as soon as I get some food in him I'm sure he'll come around.

I finish packing my things and levitate my bag along aside me. "Anyway, come on, Vera will be here soon."

"Vera?"

"She was my nanny as a kid."

"So, fucking posh," he mutters under his breath but I'm pretty sure I'm meant to hear it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Simon**

There's something under the fucking bed.

Maybe this was Baz's master plan. Lure me to his house and feed me to some fucking ghosts. Do ghosts even eat you or do they just throw lamps at you until you die?

I'm curled up under the blankets even though it's far too hot because monsters can't get you that way. I know that's not right and if Penny were here she'd probably give me a long list of magickal creatures that could kill me, blanket or no. It's reassuring though and Penny's not here to tell me otherwise.

There's a rattling of something that sounds like chains and I sit bolt upright summoning my sword.

I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back to yet another home this summer. This bed is comfortable and the food was amazing at dinner and Baz's family is nice, if still possibly evil.

I half expect something to reach out and grab my ankle when I step off the bed but nothing comes. I dart across the room in a flash before the - whatever it is - changes its mind.

I slip out the door as quickly as I can manage without making a racket. It's a large house and it's really not that late but I'm more than used to having to sneak around. 

Baz's room is just across the landing. I knock three times on the door.

There's no answer for a moment or two and I think maybe he's asleep, even though he's never asleep at this time at Watford.

But then the door swings open and a scowling Baz is standing in front of me, eyebrow raising as his gaze flickers to my sword. I relinquish the blade and it disappears.

"My room is haunted," I tell him even though I'm sure he did it on purpose.

I think he did, given the way a smirk curls his lip. "Yes, Snow, all the rooms are haunted."

"How do you get any sleep?"

"Well, they're not half as loud as your snoring."

I give him what I think is a withering look. I picked that one up off Agatha I think. I don't want to think about Agatha right now though. "I don't snore. Also, it's not about the volume, it's about how creepy it is."

He gives a long sigh and stands back to let me into the room. "They only stay under beds, you can sleep on my couch if you want."

"Why beds?"

"Well, beds, the occasional bathtub, there's one that lurks around the old servant's kitchen. Wherever anyone died."

"You gave me a bed someone  _ died  _ in?"

"It's not like we didn't change the sheets."

He makes it sound so mundane, so casual, to live in a haunted house. Fucking Pitches.

I settle onto the couch and Baz tosses me a pillow and one of his blankets, one of the thinner ones, probably because he knows I don't need it.

Still, the pillow is soft, even though the ones on the lounge are soft too and it smells slightly citrusy which you wouldn't think is something relaxing but it really is. I try not to think about that.

"Thanks," I mutter through the darkness as Baz flicks off the lamp on his bedside table (with magic of course, even though it's right there).

I last all of about ten minutes on the couch before I can't take it anymore. I don't  _ want  _ to be a bother but I really have no clue how Baz handles it. They're quieter in here at least, quieter than they were in the last room.

"How do you sleep with that?" I ask as the wraiths give a particularly creepy whisper.

"They can't hurt you."

"They're creepy as shit and I share a room with a vampire most of the time." Who now that I think about it, without the Anathema to protect me, could turn me into a midnight snack.

I can practically hear the eyebrow raise in his voice even though he's across the room. "Are you implying I'm 'creepy as shit'?"

"Only when we have exams."

Baz lets out a small laugh as really it might be my favourite sound of the night. "Get my laptop from the desk, we'll watch a movie till you're tired enough to go to sleep."

"Yeah?"

I'm up in an instant and Baz spells on the lights which blind me nearly as much as the darkness. Still, I somehow manage to gather up his laptop and make it over to his bed. He spells the lights off again.

I sit close beside him. Partially because given how fucking creepy this house is, I want him close, and partially because we do have to share the screen and it's not like we can do that from the opposite sides of the bed.

He picks something at random. "It doesn't matter if you think it's boring, the goal is to tire you out."

I don't argue.

I lean my head onto his shoulder because that's something he's managed to just accept and let me do.

I am tired though and despite my best efforts, no matter how hard I try to keep my eyes open, or how often I remind myself there's a bloodsucking vampire right beside me, I quickly black out.

**Baz**

I awake to a loud bang. At first, I assume Snow's gone off or is getting up but I hear no other sounds of movement.

It's a rare occasion when I am comfortably warm in. I'm warm tonight though. Very pleasantly warm.

It takes me a moment to realise I'm sitting up. I doubt I'd have noticed if my current pillow didn't start moving.

I jolt away from Simon Snow, suddenly very awake.

He blinks blearily at me. "Baz?" I'm not sure how long we've been asleep, long enough for Snow to get morning breath at least. "You fall asleep?"

"I think so," I somehow manage despite the situation.

Eventually, my mind makes its way back to that crashing sound and I look over the side of the bed to see where my laptop has fallen.

As I go to retrieve it Snow lays down properly, wrapping his legs around the edge of the blankets so he's half in and half out, scrunching up a bit of the blanket to use as a pillow even though there are perfectly good ones right there.

"'M just gonna stay here tonight, yeah?" he asks even though I'm pretty sure he's already made up his mind.

"Absolutely not."

"Thanks, Baz."

He completely ignores me in favour of falling back asleep.

I suppose it's better than him keeping me up all night complaining about the wraiths. They're really not that bad I don't know what Snow is on about. It doesn't matter, he can sleep here every fucking night if he wants to, wraiths or no. I'll put up a fight of course, but that'll only make him more determined.

I really doubt he'll want to at all in the light of day,

I sigh and stow my laptop under the bed. Clawing what blanket I can out of Snow's grasp to actually keep myself warm. It's a double bed but that doesn't mean I don't need every scrap of blanket on here for a semblance of warmth (or at least, I usually do).

"Give," I snap at him like he's a dog.

He relinquishes it anyway, most of it at least, and I lay down beside him.

I could shove him out but I don't really want him to leave, so I don't bother. I just settle back into the blankets and the pleasing warmth Snow heats them to.

Savouring it.

Savouring  _ him. _

**Simon**

It's not like I'm not used to Baz's face being the first thing I see when I wake up. It's not even really a bad thing to see (not anymore at least). It is a bit of a shock when it's this close though.

Close enough for me to see the way his breath ruffles some of the hair splayed across his pillow or the gentle way his eyelids flutter.

I'm half glad when I startle and end up rolling out of bed because it means I don't have time to dwell on whatever  _ that  _ was.

It was very loud  _ and  _ very painful. I see Baz's head pop out over his stupidly high bed a moment later, face alight with laughter that for some reason almost makes it worth it. I'm not sure I've ever seen him laugh before. Not properly. It's still at my expense, but it's not cruel, more like uncontrollable giggling. It's kind of cute actually.

Bastard. It was his fault in the first place.

I don't think about that.

He folds one arm under his head like a pillow as he watches me with ever amused grey eyes, hair perfectly framing his face as it reaches down towards me. "I take it you're up?"

"Yeah," is as close to a reply as I can muster.

"Give me the blanket, I'm staying in bed." He's not half as eloquent first thing in the morning apparently.

It's only as he mentions it that I realise I'm still tangled up in blanket and have taken most of it with me. I do unravel myself from it, Baz all the while tugging impatiently as he tries to reclaim it.

"Good morning to you too, Baz."

He gives me a lazy smirk. "Any morning I get woken up to you stupidly injuring yourself is a good morning."

Ah, so that's why he's in such a good mood.

"Prick."

He gathers up the blankets around him and does what can't be described as anything other than snuggling into them. "I'll make you sleep on the couch for that." He laughs more to himself (and possibly the quilt) than me.

That gives me pause. I just sit there on my ass for a minute processing. Was he just flirting with me?

Then I remember the events of last night and realise what he's getting at.

By the time I've figured it all out, it's well past the time for a response, even taking my usual stammering into account. So I just get up and make for Baz's bathroom.

"Grab something to wear out of my dresser," his muffled voice follows me, "if you head downstairs Vera will make you breakfast."

I  just grab a pair of jeans and the first shirt I see. All I brought with me is a few spare school uniforms, and the clothes the Wellbeloves gifted me at Christmas which Baz has deemed unacceptable for the summer weather (it's not like it gets that hot though).

I change in his bathroom because no matter how good of friends we are, we've not passed that hurdle. It's not because Baz is gay, I don't care that Baz is gay, it's not like that would make him interested in me. It's just a force of habit I suppose, after years of mutual hatred.

He usually keeps all his stuff stowed away at Watford, even after we became friends. It's kind of weird to see a bathroom littered with his things. Shower gel, aftershave, cologne, hair products that I don't even understand the use of.

This all feels weirdly intimate.

I don't go through his things. I have no interest in going through all of Baz's things, least of all his toiletries, it's just hard not to notice when they're out in the open.

His clothes are unbelievably comfortable too. A little too big long ways and a little too small sideways, but nicer than anything I've ever owned. The shirt is a button up which makes me feel like a bit of a prat. But I'm almost certain  _ all  _ of Baz's shirts are button ups so I didn't spend a long time deliberating.

He's still in bed when I come out, curled up under a pile of blankets, so I slip out quietly and go down to breakfast.

Vera asks me what I want for breakfast and I tell her I don't really mind. She chats idly with me while I wait. She nice. Probably the nicest person in this house really. She's more formal than Helen, Agatha's housekeeper, but that's not really surprising.

She gives me bacon and eggs and I tell her they're amazing. They  _ are _ . They're at least on par with Watford ones, maybe even better.

She smiles at me and hurries off to her other duties, leaving a plate out for Baz 'whenever he decides to grace us with his presence'.

He does grace us with his presence, or me at least I suppose.

I do a double take when he sits down beside me, nearly choking on a piece of bacon. "Are you wearing  _ jeans _ ?" I ask sliding my chair out to get a better look.

Baz's head flicks over to me and he raises an eyebrow as he tucks his own chair in. "Yes, Snow. If you're about to insist one of us has to change it's going to be you." He wraps slender fingers around his knife and fork in that 'proper' way posh people do.

"I didn't know you owned jeans," I say still not entirely over that fact.

"You're  _ wearing _ a pair of my jeans Snow." He points out, painting me as the idiot as always, though I suppose in this instance he's right. "Now if you're quite done staring at my crotch, go back to inhaling your food."

I was going to tell him they suited him, but he had to go and be a prick, so instead, I growl, "Shut it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see his lip quirk up.

He's such an arsehole.

And arsehole that looks really good in jeans.


	11. Chapter 11

**Baz**

He's doing everything wrong.

It's adorable.

People funnel through and try to talk to us. All of them noting Snow's terrible table manners, even if they don't say anything I find it very amusing.

For the most part, I do the talking, that's probably for the best. Snow says hello and listens attentively to everything people say, nibbling away at something or sipping on tea while he does so.

One of the younger Braine's drops by to chatter, they're a few years below us I think, but Simon reeks of magic, even when he's content so we get a fair bit of attention.

Another Grimm too, one I'm distantly related to  _ somewhere  _ along the line, but not close enough to be able to put a title on it.

Lady Salisbury drops by too, Ruth, as she tells Simon to call her. She looks at him a little like she's seen him before but it's probably just her old age playing tricks. Not that I tell her that.

The Bunce's don't come here, it makes me wonder if maybe I should organise something with Penelope, for Simon of course. He still talks about her constantly.

No wonder Wellbelove gets jealous.

Speaking of, she's not made an appearance yet either, but I'm sure she will. I'm not sure I'll be able to stomach it.

I pull Simon away after somewhere near the seventh person drops by. Amazingly, he's still eating. He picks up a napkin and takes his slice of cake with him, offering me a bit. I decline.

We do eventually get around to playing tennis. Not with my coach, just the two of us. Snow seems grateful, I don't think he likes being paraded around like that. It'll wear off soon enough and people will settle. The food is enough to sate him into not complaining I think.

We get offers for people to join us and decline all of them.

And unsurprisingly I win.

I thought I'd have trouble getting Snow back here but he seems awfully keen on a rematch next time.

Typical Snow.

I beat him the next time too and the one after that.

It's a couple of weeks before Wellbelove makes an appearance. I'd asked about her in passing to my father (who was over the moon at what that might mean) and found out she's away for a dressage competition. Crowley.

When she does show up her eyes widen and she hurries right over to us, taking a seat opposite me and Snow in the garden (it's where they have the best pastries apparently). By this point, people have long since stopped dropping in on me and Snow. Probably realising he wasn't going to talk to them unless they directly addressed him and giving up.

He talks to me though. Idle chatter about mischief he gets up to with Mordelia or my rants about magic or, if I'm very lucky, his concerns about the Mage.

He seems content though. For the most part, I think he's stopped worrying about being dragged off to a boys home for the rest of summer.

What he is still worried about is the wraiths. Though given he's taken to falling asleep beside me I think I prefer that.

"Wellbelove," I greet her first because Snow is thoroughly enraptured with his cinnamon roll.

"Agatha," He looks up with a grin spread across his face that feels like a knife to my stomach. I keep my expression neutral though, no matter how much I want to pour my iced coffee across Snow's lap.

"Basilton," she smiles at me, her cheeks turning a little pink. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Simon, I thought you weren't meant to be with other mages during the break."

Simon's face falls. I'm not sure whether I should feel upset at his worry or victorious because Wellbelove put it there. "Well, uhm- you see.." he stammers for a few moments.

I take pity on him. "He's staying with me."

She doesn't look that upset about being snubbed as Snow's host. "That's not what I asked."

"Technically you didn't ask anything," I point out.

Snow still hasn't said anything, he's just watching our exchange. Wellbelove rounds on him though and it looks like his passivity is about to come to an end.

"Simon, does the Mage know you're here?"

She's sharper than I thought.

Snow, like the honest idiot he is, shakes his head.

"Simon," she chastises, "you shouldn't be here."

"Don't tell the Mage," he sputters out and I resist the urge to slam my head into the table. I would have prepared him for this if I'd known he would just blurt it all out under the smallest amount of pressure.

All things considered, though I should have known.

Agatha frowns, tossing some of that oh so pretty blonde hair over her shoulder.

I interject before she can say anything. "You know, Wellbelove, you should join us for high tea on Thursday." I keep my face for the most part impassive but I meet her eyes for a few moments. "I'm not usually one for desserts but Snow's quite taken with them."

"Baz," Snow practically growls at me, only reinforcing the idea that I'm interested in Wellbelove. Crowley, he's so predictable.

The meaning is implicit though. Wellbelove can come and eat with me but I'll only be there if Snow is.

"I'd love to," she gives me a small smile and bats her eyelids a little.

I don't need to look at Simon to know he's glaring daggers at me.

"I look forward to it. We'll see you then."

Wellbelove frowns. "Leaving already?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I promised my mother I'd help my siblings with their Greek this afternoon." I stand up giving Snow's chair leg a light kick as I do so.

There's no point reducing myself to flirting with Wellbelove if Snow's just going to blow it.

"See you, Aggie," he says offering her something resembling a smile but without his usual glow.

"Goodbye Simon," she inclines her head to him as I head for the exit, hoping Snow will take the hint and follow me.

**Simon**

What the fuck was that?

I round on Baz with that exact question as soon as we're outside. "What the fuck was that?" I snap at him.

Baz gives me one of his most condescending looks, the one where he makes it look lazy and tilts his head towards me like I'm not even worth the effort of him putting on a proper facial expression. "I'm sorry, did you want to go back into care over the summer."

I'm not even sure what I'm so angry about. I  _ know  _ I'm jealous. Even though Baz is gay and last I checked I wasn't all that invested in Agatha.

Apparently, I take too long to respond because Baz whips out his phone and dials Vera asking her to come to pick us up.

Which I do not appreciate because it only gives me more time to puzzle over everything that happened. Everything I'm feeling.

Maybe I do still want Agatha.

I don't know.

It doesn't matter anyway because apparently,  _ she  _ just wants Baz.

She was good and ready to toss me back to the Normals, despite my pleading. All Baz had to do was bat his eyelashes at her and she backed down.

Merlin, I hate him.

"She'll be here in twenty," he tells me, hanging up his phone.

That's odd, she's usually waiting for us when we have to leave. "You lied to Agatha?" I ask, aghast.

"Yes, like you should have when she asked if you were allowed to be here," he snaps back.

I glare at my feet. At the fancy sneakers, Baz bought me my first day here, despite my protests. They make me wonder if maybe I'm even allowed to be angry at him right now, after all this, after everything he's done for me.

He doesn't give me much of a choice.

"Spit it out, Snow."

"You're such a dick," I manage through gritted teeth.

Much to my shock, Baz just laughs. "I flirt with your girlfriend while you're at the table at that's all you've got? Crowley, how were you ever my nemesis?"

"We're not enemies anymore," I say even though my hand is balled into a fist and I know he and everyone else can smell my magic.

"So? You're allowed to be annoyed. Surely you get annoyed at Bunce on occasion."

"But I owe you." Is all I say. After all, I have been wearing clothes he bought for me and going to a club on the membership he pays for and sleeping in his bed.

"Don't be a fucking numpty. You're no fun if you don't get riled up."

I meet his eyes for a moment and he looks almost serious despite the smirk painted across his face. The sentiment almost makes me melt. But then I do get angry. Not fight it out angry. Confused angry.

The kind of angry that makes you wait in silence for twenty minutes. The kind that doubles down and does it for the car ride as well.

Mordelia drags me off to play football with me when we get back to Pitch Manor. She's better than me too but I don't mind so much with her.

It's late by the time I return to Baz's room. I always come here. He said I'd get used to the wraiths but so far, no luck.

He's sitting in front of the fire when I get in. Book propped open on one knee and firelight giving his features a soft glow, less grey than usual. More alive. Maybe that's why he's so obsessed with fire.

He's got one hand behind him to stop himself falling backwards. I sit behind him because the fire's too hot for me, leaning my back against his. He withdraws his hand from behind him and returns it to his book, letting my weight against his support him.

"Hey," I say tentatively, unsure how to press on from our earlier row.

"Wait." He holds up a hand and gestures to the book. A few moments pass and I consider getting up and leaving, facing the wraiths in the spare room for the night. Then I hear the book snap shut. I can't really see him from this angle but I can feel the coolness of his skin even through both our shirts and his hair ticks the back of my neck.

"What do you want, Snow?" he doesn't say it cruelly or coldly. I think that's just the way he talks to me really.

I'm still not sure what I want really. Agatha maybe. I don't  _ want  _ to date her though, I don't think. But then why do I get so annoyed when Baz flirts with her. I suppose I could want her and also not want other people, or at least Baz, to have her. That makes me feel like a right arsehole though. So I hope it's not that.

"Baz, how did you know you were gay?"

**Baz**

_ What _ .

"I don't know. I just did." I tell him because the alternative is 'it all started when I met my Watford roommate and realised I wanted to snog the shit out of him'.

He's been ignoring me for hours and then he just sits down and asks that.

"Helpful," Is all he says back.

_ Helpful?  _ Am I supposed to be being helpful right now? Is he looking for advice?

Crowley, I think Snow might be questioning his sexuality. Honestly, that's a bit much for me right now.

I ask as much because if he's going to ask incredibly invasive questions, I might as well do the same. "Why do I need to help? Do you fancy a bloke or something?"

I feel his curls catch in my own hair as he shakes his head. "No. At least, I don't think so." It's not a large protestation. Not so much to make me think he's hiding something but not so little as to make me think he's lying. Fuck. "I'm not even sure what I'd like in a bloke." He admits and I feel him shrug against me.

He's so warm. Nearly as warm as the fire I'm staring into.

"What do you like about Wellbelove?" I ask because if I'm going to torture myself with this line of thought, I might as well suffer a little more now and get my answer for later. Not that I don't already know the answer.

"She’s  pretty and posh, I suppose. But I'm not sure I like the posh part," Lovely. Because really that's about all Wellbelove and I have in common. "She's kind too-"

I scoff, mostly involuntarily, and feel Snow tense behind me.

"Don't be an arse," he snaps.

"Pretty and kind aren't reasons to like someone, Snow. What do you really like about her?" I ask, trying to cover my tracks. Doing my best not to point out that really, he's only named one thing because Wellbelove is really not that kind.

"I dunno," he says like a true lovesick fool, "we just kind of fit, you know? She's my future."

High praise.

"Well, what do you like about Bunce?" Even if we are friends now, it is ideal if I drive a wedge between him and Wellbelove. Out of spite if nothing else.

"She's stupidly brave, but not like proper stupid." He pauses for a moment and I think he’s done. Better than Wellbelove got, I suppose, but still not great. He keeps going though. "She's pretty stubborn too and she doesn't care about what other people think or feel. She won't hesitate to hit me with hard truths if I need them."

I half want to ask what Snow likes about me after that but I don't because this is going well and I really don't want that to change.

"See you need to like things about people," I tell him, in lieu of my actual thoughts.

"What about the last bloke you liked then? Why'd you like him?"

Well. This was a mistake.

"That's a bit personal, Snow."

"So, there is someone?"

"I never said that."  I keep my tone calm despite my internal panic. He's too close. Far too close.

Snow was never one to back down though. I love and hate that about him. "If you know so much about why you should like people, tell me why you like him," he challenges.

Unfortunately for me, I'm never one to back down either. So I keep it vague. "Well for starters, he's ridiculously dense. He wouldn't register I was interested if I outright told him."

"You like that?"

Oh, the irony.

"It's endearing," I say feeling very endeared and extremely uncomfortable.

"Sounds like a hassle."

"That too."

Snow doesn't say anything. He just waits for me to continuing, giving me a quick nudge with his elbow.

"He's absolutely gorgeous."

"I thought you said that wasn't a reason."

"It shouldn't be the sole reason but it's certainly a contributing factor."

"What are we talking, like goblin fit?"

Despite the situation, I can't help but laugh. Crowley, that was an odd one. "Goblin fit?"

"Baz, have you ever  _ seen  _ a goblin."

I'm still snickering, holding my hand up to my mouth and laughing into it. Snow elbows me in the ribs again.

"I thought they were all trying to kill you?" I manage to get out between bursts of laughter.

"Trying to kill me and fit are not mutually exclusive."

That shuts me up. Mostly. A few more giggles escape much to the annoyance of the rather petulant Chosen One leaning against me. "Yes, he's fitter than a goblin."

"Is he fitter than you?"

Is that implying that Snow thinks I'm more attractive than the goblins he apparently has something of a fetish for? "Apple and oranges, Snow. He doesn't quite have my dark charms but he  _ is  _ the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"Well, now I have to meet him."

"Impossible." Because it is. Snow can't meet himself.

"Well now I'm absolutely going to find and meet him," Snow utters, continuing to be unbelievably dense and in this moment I am very thankful for it, "isn't that what friends do? Give their stamp of approval."

"You know Bunce disapproves of your relationship with Wellbelove, yes?"

I can feel Snow wilt against me. "Point taken. So what else?"

"He doesn't put up with my shit. Most of the time anyway."

"An admirable trait in a person."

I think he thinks he's being snarky. Really he's just being an idiot.

I trace the embossed cover of my book with my fingertips because my heart is beating much to fast and I need to fidget somehow. "He's stubborn. A little impulsive." Or a lot. "But compassionate and just good."

Snow tilts his head back so it's resting against my shoulder, hair tickling my jaw. I think that maybe he's onto me but he just says, "Does he go to Watford?"

I let myself lie this time at least. "No."

"He sounds like a good fit for you, though."

If only.

"He's not interested."

"How do you know?"

"Firstly, he's straight. Secondly, I've been kind of an arse to him."

"You're an arse to everyone Baz." Snow reminds me like I don't already know that. "You were an arse to me for years."

So. FuckIng. Dense.

I don't say anything, so Snow takes it upon himself. "I think you should talk to him."

I'm about to retaliate when there's a knock at my bedroom door. I stand. Snow falls backwards then scrambles to his feet, giving me a light slap on the arm.

"Come in," I ask heading towards the door, already knowing who it is.

"Time for dinner master Pitch, master Snow," Vera tells us before leaving.

Even though she basically raised me I think it's safe to say I've never been more grateful for Vera in my entire life.


	12. Chapter 12

**Baz**

I'm not surprised when the Mage drops by, it's shortly after we meet with Wellbelove. I don't know if it was her who told him or if she'd let it slip to one of her parents. It didn’t matter.

Or it might have been someone else.

It's cruel but I almost want it to have been Wellbelove.

I'm trying to help Snow come to grips with his magic in the library. Nothing dangerous, just simple spells.

Vera knocks, thank snakes, and I slip my wand away.

"There's a man at the door who's dressed like Robin Hood? He asked for master Snow." Vera looks more confused than normal and frankly, I don't blame her. Most mages can blend in well enough with Normals but not the Mage. His insistence on leggings and swords and tunics is ridiculous. It's probably some complex he's gotten from coming from a family with little magic and even less standing. Pathetic.

Snow looks like he might be sick.

"You don't have to go and see him if you don't want to." I want to reach out and smooth the hair he's got bunched up in his fingers. To stoke his arm until he understands I'm not going to let anything happen to him.

Snow snorts and stands up, putting on a brave face even though he's scared shitless. Crowley, I love this idiot.

"No, it's okay. I'll need to face him sooner or later. Will you come?"

"Good luck keeping me away." Really, as if I'd let Snow face the Mage alone. I was the one who convinced him to do this after all. I almost feel guilty for it given how scared he is now. A few weeks is better than nothing though I think.

Snow smiles at me though it's a little weak. He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the foyer, he knows the way well enough by now.

The Mage is standing the foyer, hands behind his back and looking like he's scrutinising everything. A few of his men flock around. I've half a mind to tell them all to get the fuck out and stop tracking mud across our very expensive carpet.

He glances up at us, his eyes falling on our joined hands and his brow crinkling. He's got a lot of frown lines. I'm not surprised given the amount of time he spends ranting and raving.

If Snow notices the gesture he doesn't do anything, maintaining a vice-like grip on my hand.

"Simon, I'd wanted to speak to you alone."

"Then you'll have to get him off my property," I interject before Snow can simply bow to his whims.

The Mage turns to me, expression somehow souring more. "Mister Pitch, is there a reason you've kidnapped the greatest mage."

I don't think Snow likes that, I see a slightly disgusted curl of his lip in my periphery. "It's only kidnapping if they don't come willingly."

We're not at school now. I can say just about anything I want to the Mage. After all, he's traipsed into my house in his stupid getup.

"Is that true, Simon?"

"Yes, sir."

Sir?

Crowley, I'm not sure my father realised exactly how gargantuan of a task he'd given me. So much for the brave face Snow was putting on earlier.

The Mage clicks his tongue, obviously, like he's trying to show Snow exactly how disappointed he is. Fuck him.

"Now that we've established he's not be kidnapped, will you be finding your own way back or should I call you a cab?"

"I'd like a word with Simon. Alone." The Mage gives me a very pointed look. I meet it because even if he's got Snow cowed, I'm not.

I see Simon step forward and can almost see months of progress going down the drain.

**Simon**

"Why? What can you say to me that you can't say in front of Baz?"

This is bullshit. They can't just keep talking about me like I'm not here.

"Coven business," the Mage says and I know he means 'we've told you to stay with Normals and that's where you have to stay. No arguments'. Which frankly I don't want to hear and Baz can put up a better fight than me. I know it. Even if it'll push him even further out of the Mage's good graces.

I can practically feel Baz raise an eyebrow beside me. "Should you be allowed to govern us if you won’t even tell us what you say in those meetings? The ones where you decide our fate." Baz practically spits the word. I'm not sure if these are his father's words, or his aunt’s, or something he picked up in Politickal Science. Maybe they're his words. Baz is certainly smart enough.

The Mage sighs loudly, exasperated. "Not when they concern individuals."

"Right but then shouldn't it be up to Simon to decide who knows."

"Simon is a child."

"Shut it," I snap, all heads snap towards me, even the Mage's men but I barely notice them, "both of you."

The Mage looks irritated, it almost makes me want to go with him.

Baz though, Baz looks thoroughly amused and possibly a little proud. He makes me want to stay. More than anything.

"Can you two not talk about me like I'm not here?" I basically growl out. I see a couple of the Mage's men eyeing me wearily, my magic is seeping all over the place.

Baz squeezes my hand and it helps some. I'd like to say I'd forgotten I was holding his hand, but I'm always acutely aware of Baz, even now.

"Then shall we talk outside Simon?" The Mage pushes again but by now I've had it.

I shake my head. "No. You can say it here and now or not at all."

Baz looks at me and he's wearing that expression he always has before he punches me. I don't flinch away this time. It's probably directed at the Mage anyway. Even if he's looking at me. Even if it does make me a little uncomfortable.

I wonder what he's thinking.

**Baz**

Crowley, I want to snog him right now.

**Simon**

For a moment I think the Mage may concede. His resolve only hardens though and he takes a step towards me.

I think he might actually try and drag me out of here.

"Basil, what is going on? Vera tells me we have a bunch of idiots in fancy dress at our-" Malcolm -Mr Grimm- interrupts stopping as he walks into the foyer, like he's surprised, even though we all know he knew exactly who it was. "Oh hello Davy, to what do we owe the pleasure?" His smile is venomous, basically a sneer. That must be where Baz gets it.

Speaking of. The moment Malcolm steps into the room Baz drops my hand. I resist the urge to reach for it again. I can handle this.

"I'm here to take Simon home." He says.

I hear Baz scoff beside me. "He's here to take Simon to a home."

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Malcolm waves it away, "we're more than happy to take him off your hands for the summer. After all, I'm sure you have important Coven business to attend to."

"The coven has already decided what to do with him."

"Yes," Malcolm concedes but I don't think he's done yet, "but that was five years ago before anyone was offering to take him in. Take it back to the Coven with our offer."

"He will come with me in the meantime," the Mage insists.

"That will be unnecessary."

It's not like Baz to sit on the sidelines, not usually at least, not when I'm concerned. "Why don't you let Simon choose."

The only person who looks more shocked than me is Baz's dad.

He called me Simon. Again. In front of other people.

"I want to stay here," I blurt out, speaking to the room, properly, with a little confidence for the first time since this began, "if you don't mind Mr Grimm," I say, even though he obviously doesn't mind. I think all that time at the club with Baz is rubbing off on me.

Malcolm smiles. Properly smiles, not smirks. I think it's fake. It's a little unsettling at the least. "Of course, you can stay Simon."

"Thank you-"

"No, I insist." The Mage cuts in.

I can practically see Baz's lip curl. "He's made his choice. You're welcome to try and drag him out of here though."

For a moment the Mage looks like he might. I don't mean to do it but my magic flares, burning hotter as I panic. They all feel it. It feels like a threat, even though I don't mean it as one.

"We'll talk about this when you get back to school Simon."

"Yes, sir."

He turns on his heel and stalks out, taking his men with him.

My stomach twists.

Maybe I should have spoken with him.

Maybe I should have just shut up and gone with him.

Malcolm claps me on the shoulder. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want, Simon. No matter what the Mage says."

It calms me some. Knowing they won’t just let him take me away.

"Thank you."

He does the same to Baz. "You've done well."

I think he's talking about what he said to the Mage. I agree Baz did do well.

I am worried about the Mage. I try not to think about it, though. I just want to enjoy this.

**Baz**

Simon has already talked me down from interrogating Wellbelove.

I say talked me down, I'm still brimming with rage. Snow insists that we don't know it was her who did it (even though she obviously did) and that I'm not allowed to go around levelling accusations at people (even if they obviously did it).

I've settled for being intensely uninterested in her. Which is the reality, I suppose. We've already established that me flirting with her won’t help us, so I've stopped.

I don't mind.

I don't like Wellbelove and it keeps Snow happy.

It also makes things very awkward at afternoon tea though. Simon's not a talker, even with his girlfriend apparently.

"So, Basil, read anything interesting lately?" Wellbelove tries to engage me in conversation for what must be the dozenth time.

I keep things curt. "Yes."

She waits a moment or two, her expression wilting a little. Snow doesn't seem to notice. "Care to elaborate."

"Not really, you wouldn't be interested. It's above your reading level."

Snow's head snaps up at that and he levels a glare at me. "Can you not be a prick for two minutes?"

"What? I'm simply stating the facts, it's above yours too," I sneer. That only pisses him off more. "We'll go see Bunce on the weekend, I'll discuss it with her."

I watch Wellbelove closely. She was jealous enough of Simon and Bunce, even though there's obviously nothing going on. How will she feel if I prefer her too?

I don't mean to be cruel.

Well, I do.

It's only because she got us into this whole mess with the Mage though. She nearly cost me my summer with Simon.

Simon, whose attention I now have.

"We're going to see Penny?" he asks, sitting up a little, his eyes alight. Crowley, now I'm a little jealous too.

"Yes, I called her last night, figured you could use a friendly face after..." I intentionally trail off, glancing from Snow to Wellbelove.

"After what?" She chimes in.

"Nothing." Snow cuts in. So apparently, he can lie after all, when it protects other people's feelings.

Wellbelove frowns. "Simon." Her tone is warning and suspicious.

I say nothing, despite my better judgement.

After a moment or two, Snow caves, "the Mage came by yesterday."

"You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" I ask before Simon can stop me because she invited it after all.

Wellbelove's face falls and she gulps. "Look, I just thought-"

"Wait what?" Simon snaps at her. To think, I was terribly bored a moment ago. "You told him?"

"Of course, Simon, you disobeyed an order from the Coven."

Snow sits there blustering for a few moments. Wellbelove apparently takes it as an opportunity to address me again. "Is that why you've been being so..."

"Rude?" I offer up, "No, I just figure if I can't manipulate you into not running to the Mage, there isn't much point in pretending to like you."

Wellbelove looks like she's been slapped. Good. I want to slap her but I'm pretty sure Snow would take her side if I did. So this will have to do.

"If that's how you feel, I'll go," she stands, flushed pink and tossing a napkin down on the table.

Snow shakes his head and stands too. For a moment I think he might go with her. "Don't bother, we'll go."

Crowley, it's like Christmas came early this year.

Snow grabs my forearm and pulls me to my feet none too gently. It doesn't matter, I follow him out, shooting a smirk at Wellbelove over my shoulder.

Good riddance.

 

**Simon**

Baz  _ does  _ take me to see Penny.

I'd forgotten that Premal was with the Mage's men now, that's probably why Baz waited so long. He kicked up a fuss when we came over, even though he already knew we were coming. Everyone knew, it's not like we dropped in unannounced.

He stormed out saying something about how we shouldn't question the Mage. Penny's mum didn't exactly agree with that stance.

I think she likes me more now, Penny's mum since I'm more distanced from the Mage.

Am I more distanced from the Mage?

I've never disobeyed him before. It wasn't half as bad as I thought it was but it still wasn't great.

Baz manages to get himself into a bit of debate with Penny's mum. Something about an 18th-century language shift? Penny was right there with them too but I pulled her off to the side. It's probably for the best too, Penny was riling her mum right up.

She waits for me to start when we're in the privacy of her room.

"Do you think I did the wrong thing?" I ask in one breath.

Penny eyes me with confusion and tilts her head to the side. "About what?"

"Staying with Baz, disobeying the Mage."

Penny shakes her head immediately. "Merlin no, Simon. Every year you come back looking worse. I'm glad you're getting taken care of."

And I am, Penny's mum said I looked healthy when I walked in. Penny said that means her mum thinks I'm getting fat.

"You should have seen him though Penny, he was livid."

Penny waves me away. "What's he going to do, Si? It's cruel to not let you stay with someone over the holidays and there's no reason he shouldn't. The only problem I have with it is that you're staying with Baz and not me."

"You don't like me staying with Baz?"

"I mean, I'd prefer if you were here, of course, and I'm not convinced Baz isn't going to use you as an offering in a blood ritual or something but I don't mind as long as you're fed and happy, Simon. Though I suppose those go hand in hand."

My expression softens a little as I look at her and the twisting of guilt and anger and confusion in my chest bit by bit loosens itself. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, or even what I should do in this situation but if Penny approves that means I'm doing something right.

"Blood ritual is a possibility, that house is really creepy," I tell her because I'm not sure how to properly express my sentiments.

Penny grins, "Deer heads mounted on the walls? Hallways that lead to nowhere? Creepy locked basement?"

"No, it's more like everything is dark wood, there's a lot of gargoyles, and wraiths haunt every corner of that house."

"Don't be daft Simon, wraiths can't hurt you." Her words are almost exactly like the ones I imagined her saying on my first night there.

I fold my arms across my chest and double down. "You spend the night in a room with them, they're creepy."

"Not half as lethal as Baz's family though, I'd bet."

I give a quick nod. "You'd be right, even the baby has bitten me at least a dozen times."

"If you don't like it you could stay here. Somehow I think Premal will vacate his room if you stay."

Do I want to stay?

I love Penny, she's my best friend and really, seeing her has been the highlight of my holidays.

"Nah, I'm good," I tell her because as much as I want to be with Penny, I also want to stay with Baz. "His nanny makes the best scones."

Penny's face lights up with a malicious kind of glee. No wonder she and Baz get on (even if they insist they aren't friends), it's uncanny. "He has a nanny?"

"Well, when he was younger. She's nice. She taught me how to make croissants."

"You want to stay for the baked goods?" She asks laughing a little and, thank magic, not put out by me rejecting her offer, "I'm not even surprised."

That and the fact that I think if I walk out on Baz he'll be mad. He wouldn't show it but I think it would piss him off.

And that I like using his fancy posh soap, it smells amazing.

And it's nice not to have to move if I fall asleep mid-movie.

And a whole list of other reasons I've been trying not to think about but it all boils down to, I just don't want to go.

Agatha will spend time with Penny too. Not much. I just don't really want to see Agatha at all right now. I'm not sure whether I should tell Penny about it or not.

Baz was livid. Penny will be twice as bad. At least.

I'm mad at Agatha, of course, but not so much that I want to bring Penny's wrath down upon her.

So, I don't tell her and neither does Baz, even though I don't ask him not to.

We spend the rest of the day together and somehow Penny manages to settle the worries swirling around in my mind.

I know I'll miss Penny as we leave, but Baz tells me we can come back.

And really, it's not like I'll be lonely. Not with Baz around.

I try not to think about that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA FAM, Uni is high key ruining me rn so I haven't actually written the chapter after this yet (as I normally would) so Idk how far of the next chapter will be Friday at the latest probs.   
> But yeah, I was supposed to post this yesterday so sorry! But I hope yall enjoy.   
> I'll try and polish off replies and the next chapter ASAP but I got a big test in like 2 day and I am pressed for time

**Simon**

For the first time in my entire life, summer break goes too fast.

I'm almost sad to be back at Watford. And maybe a little afraid. I doubt the Mage will be too pleased to see me this year.

I'd tell him what Baz told me to say, that I was spying for him. But I can't lie to the Mage. I can't lie to anyone but myself. Even that sometimes gets hard.

It's good to see Penny at breakfast, even though I saw her a fair bit in the holidays. It's actually kind of nice to see Dev and Niall as well. Their appearances in our summer were less frequent than Penny's by the end of it.

Agatha still doesn't sit with us.

I've been stewing for much of the summer and I think I'm at the point where I'd just like things to go back to the way they were between us. No awkward conversations. No apologies. Just back to how we were. Except this time just as friends I think. That was something else I'd managed to riddle out.

It's not like I was meaning to. I'd much rather run on autopilot with everyone's expectations at this point. Particularly given the next question in my mind is what me and Baz talked about the night after we first saw Agatha.

It's times like these when I can't keep my thoughts at bay, that I wish I had that ball again. The one I'd had when I first came to Watford. I think Baz might end our friendship here and now if I did though. Not that I'm not a little worried I might do it myself.

So, I compensate and sit between our beds, leaning back against Baz's and tearing pages from my notebook only to crumple them up and toss them at the wall. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't. If they don't I just get a new page and keep going.

I slept in Baz's bed pretty much all summer. And I spent near the entire time with him. And it still wasn't enough. I should be well and truly sick of him by now but I'm not.

Now that we're back at Watford I only see him in our room and during meals and sometimes classes.

I miss him more than I ever missed Agatha. About as much as I miss Penny over the holidays but in a very different way.

Merlin, I'm fucked.

Baz walks in eventually, looking unfairly good even with a scowl on his face. "What are you doing, Snow?"

"Thinking," I say as begrudgingly as doing the thinking itself.

"And it's caused you to malfunction?"

His comment makes me smile at a little and I hate myself for it. "No, it helps me think."

"And you need all the help you can get."

I lob my next paper ball at his head. He catches it but I follow it with another that hits him square in the forehead.

He tosses the first one back at me, kicking the other along the ground. "Get off my bed, Snow."

"I'm not on your bed."

"You're leaning on it."

"I could lean on mine and throw these onto your side of the room?" I punctuate it by tossing another ball at him. "I thought this would be the lesser evil but it's your choice."

He gives an over exaggerated sigh and seats himself beside me. "So, what has managed the impossible and made you think?"

"You," I admit, staring at my knees so I don't have to look at him.

"Me?" he asks, sounding every part the smarmy git I thought he'd be.

I give a small hum of agreement, tearing off another page and crumpling it up. "Thank you, for this summer, you're a surprisingly good friend."

He chuckles beside me. "Very backhanded of you. Don't let it get around."

I give a small shrug. "I'm not sure I want us to be friends though." I unfurl the paper in my hands again, keeping my gaze directly forward so I don't have to look at Baz. So, I have a moment to sort out how to say what I want to.

Baz actually recoils a little and I can practically feel him close back off. "Did the Mage say something to you?"

I shake my head, "No, nothing like that."

"What then?" He sounds mad. But I'm not done and I don't know how to say this.

"I just- I," I mumble, "It's like-"

"Spit it out, Snow."

But I can't. I don't know how to just say this.

How do you tell your archenemy turned friend that you fancy him?

How do you do it when he fancies someone else?

"Fine then," he starts to get up beside me.

I panic.

I grab his wrist and he hesitates a moment but then he shakes me off so I do, what I see in the moment, as the only logical thing.

I push him back down and situate myself across his lap. Knees either side of his legs, completely unsure of what to do with my hands. Though really this isn't a one up on our previous situation.

"Don't leave, just let me figure out how to say this," I protest. Being face to face with him only makes things harder. Particularly when he's glaring at me.

His voice comes out calm though, calm and cold and everything about Baz that used to make my skin crawl. "Say it or get off me. You have three seconds."

"Three."

He's glowering at me and I'm still stammering unable to get even a full word out.

Merlin, how is he able to reduce me to a babbling mess even now?

"Two."

"Baz, I like you but-"

"One," he says over the top of me.

So, I kiss him.

Words never work anyway.

I quickly find something to do with my hands, fisting them into Baz's shirt collar and pulling him closer.

It's not like it was with Agatha. I latch onto him and he latches onto me. Like it's more than want. Like we  _ need  _ this. Like we're both consuming each other and neither of us minds.

His hands tangle in my hair and he presses on the back of my head, pulling me in deeper.

"Oh," he says softly against my lips. I suppose snogging the life out of him was more efficient than speaking to get the message across.

**Baz**

I should stop this but I never want it to end.

Simon Snow is sitting in my lap. His hands are tangled in my shirt collar, pulling me closer. His lips are against mine. His tongue is in my mouth and it's making me forget all the reasons this shouldn't happen.

I can't let this happen between us. Not when our entire friendship is based on a lie.

It's not all a lie though, not really.

But it complicates things for the families and our plans. Sure, it means Snow and I will be closer but maybe that'll just make the fallout worse at the end of the day, if I fail and we have to fight. It would have been easier to let him kill me if he hated me. I think he'd still be able to do it, if the Mage gave the order, but I'm not sure I want him to have to live with the guilt.

But I don't want this to stop.

I  _ never _ want this to stop.

So, I let myself have this, this one kiss. For as long as it lasts.

And then it ends.

Snow pulls back saying, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have. I know you fancy someone else. It's just you were going to leave and I didn't know how to say it."

Oh, now he's got his voice back. Now that he's gone and absolutely ruined every last ounce of resistance in me.

I tell myself to push him away. To tell him I'm not interested but I do still want to be friends. To do what my father wants. To do what I should do for the Families. What I should do for Snow too.

I don't.

"You're so fucking dense," I tell him and pull him back into me.

For once in his life, Snow doesn't put up a fight.

He leans into me until we're pressed together from hips to chest. He releases his grip on my shirt and throws his arms around my neck.

"But what about that other guy," he breathes against my lips, not pulling back.

Crowley.

If my eyes were open, I'd be rolling them. Right now they're unnecessary though, I just want to focus on the feeling of Snow's lips against mine.

"You're so fucking dumb. There is no other guy." It's more than I want to say, too long of depriving myself of the taste of his mouth but I can't resist insulting him.

Apparently, that was the wrong move though because Snow pulls back. "You lied to me."

I just stare at him for a few moments, waiting for it to click.

It does, eventually. Luckily Snow can't resist a staring match so he stays put until it sinks in.

"Oh," he says mirroring my earlier realisation but taking far too long. He holds up one hand between us, pointing to himself in an unspoken question.

I nod, my features taking on a far more patronising expression than the mood would dictate.

"You said he didn't go to Watford."

"I did lie about that."

"You said he was the most gorgeous thing you'd ever seen."

If I weren't already flushed from the snogging that would have been a problem. I try to be as nonchalant as possible as I say, "yes".

"Oh," he goes again before quickly breaking into a grin, biting his bottom lip as he devours me with his eyes. "Not so bad yourself."

Thankfully, Snow puts me out of my misery and leans back in to kiss me.

He pushes me sideways ever so slightly, so my back isn't resting against the bed anymore and I end up laying on the floor with Snow on top of me. If anything, more of him is pressed to me than before so I don't mind in the slightest.

We do settle down eventually. Less desperate and heated. More tired and sweet but still  _ wanting _ .

I still don't want this to end.

Neither does Snow, I think.

Eventually, though we'll have to part and go back to our own beds and figure out what we're going to do about this tomorrow.

Or maybe we don't.

Snow grabs the blanket off his bed and tosses it over us.

I break from his grip for a moment so I can sit up and get my pillow. Snow looks a little put out when I turn back to him but settles when he realises I just wanted a pillow. I let it fall and it hits Snow in the face as I grab a few extra blankets for good measure. He's unbelievably warm but I'm not sure how close he'll be wanting to get tonight.

Snow settles on top of the pillow and I join him moments after, tossing the blankets over us and feeling the warmth he's left against my skin heating them too.

" **Soften up.** " I point my wand at the floor below us and spell it comfortable because unless I'm mistaken we're staying here for the night.

It's not like we haven't shared a bed before. We were always on opposite ends though and there had been no prior snogging.

Snow keeps his distance a little. Not pressed against me anymore but with one hand resting on my wrist as my finger curl down to meet it. He's biting his lip too. And staring at mine. His gaze rakes up and down my face from my eyes to my lips, pausing every few moments and setting my skin more alight with every second of it. Not blazing need like before. Soft warmth.

I lean forward ever so slightly and kiss him. Briefly this time. I have to keep it brief or we'll never get any sleep.

He gives a soft hum and pulls me into him, his eyelids starting to droop.

Mine do too.

I try to lay awake and savour it, the feeling of the warm skin of Simon's back under my fingertips.

But it doesn't take long till I nod off.

**Simon**

I don't wake up cold per say, just very unblanketed and very uncomfortable.

Baz has basically rolled himself up in the blankets and stolen the pillow. Even if they were mainly his things.

Breakfast will be soon though and I need to change. I'm still wearing the same uniform as yesterday, Baz is too. I can see the collar of his shirt poking out from under his blankets.

My limbs ache too, from sleeping on the ground, probably because Baz didn't cast his cushioning spell wide enough.

Things were just too delicate, too fragile, to stop and get ready for bed. It felt like even that small act would break things between us. That we'd get up and get dressed and then go sleep in separate beds and pretend this never happened the next day. Today.

Will Baz start acting like this never happened?

I change quickly, so as not to give him too much time to back down. But then I take my time, just in case he's already decided. I brush my teeth for over five minutes before I realise I am going to have to talk to him.

"Morning," I say as I walk back into our room.

"Shut up," he grumbles, pushing his face further into the pillows.

And for a moment panic grips me. I think maybe he has decided to not go through with this after all. Though I'm not sure what this is? Are we boyfriends? I want us to be.

I sit down beside him, wincing slightly thanks to my still aching limbs. I'd like to say I'll never sleep on the floor again but if that's what it takes I know I will.

Baz's hair is a mess and he's got his eyes squeezed shut. It's not the first time I've seen him like this, it just takes on a new meaning now, I think. It only makes me more determined.

So, when he mutters, "go away, Snow." I respond by placing a kiss on his temple.

"You want me to save you a plate and breakfast?" I ask even though he rarely eats it.

He shakes his head and I go to get up.

"Wait." I stop immediately. "You're sore from sleeping on the floor?" he asks. I thought I was hiding it better than that.

I shrug. "A little."

"Where does it hurt?" He pulls himself into a sitting position, blankets falling away and bedhead remaining stubbornly in place.

I reach out and smooth it down as best I can. I can practically see Baz's resolve crumble as he leans into my touch.

"Why, so you know where to hit me?" I tease, even though we're long past that. (I think.)

I see Baz's lip quirk up and he quickly quells the expression. "So I can  **kiss it better** ." I hear the magic in his words, I hadn't even noticed he'd pulled his wand out till now.

So, I tell him. I point to my cheek first. Cool lips press against it and I feel the discomfort dissipate almost immediately.

I press a finger to my shoulder and his own move to the buttons on my shirt in a silent question. I nod.

Deft fingers loose the buttons on my shirt till Baz can pull it away enough to kiss my shoulder.

Then he unbuttons it further when I point to my upper arm. Sliding the shirt off my shoulders.

Then my lower arm. My elbow. The back of my hand.

He peels my shirt off completely when I point to my hip.

He motions for me to turn when I point to my lower back and shoulder blade.

I don't tell him but I wince when I tilt my head and his lips move to the back of my neck. He stays there a moment kissing near every inch of my neck. Easing my aches and pains. Easing my worries that maybe he doesn't want this and about what last night means for us.

When I give him what I hope is a coy smile and tap my lips he pulls back.

"It's a numbing spell, you don't want that," he murmurs burying his face in my neck but not moving his lips. " **All better** ?" He asks it like a question but I know it's a spell.

Then he does kiss me, properly, on the mouth, pulling me back against his chest so I have to turn my head back and tilt it up to meet his lips. The buttons of his shirt press into my back where I can still feel it, at least.

But then he's pushing me away and upright, pulling my shirt sleeves back up my arms and over my shoulders. "You better get to breakfast or people will get suspicious."

**Baz**

I keep telling myself to end this. Before I hurt Snow more than I need to. Before I hurt myself more than I need to.

The lines were already blurry between what it was that I wanted and what it was my father wanted me to do but this feels too far off course.

I'd resolved, while Snow was in the bathroom, to tell him we shouldn't do this. To list all the reasons why this could never happen. The war, the Mage, the fact that I'm a vampire, the fact that Snow's the chosen one and he deserves his golden destiny with Wellbelove. That's before we even get into the fact that our entire relationship is built on a lie.

Crowley, I hate myself for this.

But then the moment stupid fucking Snow walked back in, with his bronze curls awry as always and his eyes gleaming and the moles decorating his neck, the ones I got to kiss last night, I was done for. I'd resolved to just let it die and skip the conversation. I couldn't tell him I didn't want this. Because I did. So much.

So, I'd just let it die.

Then he kissed me, not even on the mouth, on the temple. Not all teenage horniness and fighting. Softly and sweetly. And I'd thought about waking up like that every morning. And it was already far too late for me to recover.

And now he's rebuttoning his shirt and I sink back into my pillows and the softened floor below me. I'd almost feel guilty about not casting the softening spell far enough if it hadn't presented me with a shirtless Snow to run my lips over.

He slept shirtless too of course. He always does. In fact, I'm pretty sure he slept in nothing but his pants. I didn't check when he got up. I should have, he's destroyed my resolve anyway.

"Do you want me to save you a plate at breakfast?" he asks again. His shirt is rebuttoned and I'm not sure if I'm disappointed by that or thankful.

"No." I bury my head back into the pillow so I don't say something soft and pathetic. Because I want to. Because he makes me want to.

Because now I know how much he  _ needs  _ to be loved. To know he's loved. And I do love him.

I just can't tell him that yet.

I'm not sure I'll be able to tell him that ever.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this being so late and so short, idk I just have not been in a writing mood (and also I retained my rule of not posting the next chapter till the one after is finished). The good news is next chapter is shaping up to be just under 3k and should be coming to yall soon because the one after is basically already written cause it was originally a 'The Truth Will Set You Free" accompaniment piece that I never knew how to finish so.... SOON (also it'll be like at least 5k so ??? win???)
> 
> Anyways hope yall enjoy the calm before the storm.

**Baz**

It doesn't take long for Snow to start asking if we can push our beds together. I think he got the idea of Bunce's pixie roommate and her girlfriend.

I pretend to hold out, to be unsure, not for any reason related to my father's grand scheme, mostly just because it gives me a bargaining chip to get the table that sits between our beds. I do get it too but it doesn't matter. Snow has basically claimed both of our beds as his own.

When I get back from hunting I usually find him curled up in the centre of the bed like a cat. Taking up as little space as possible but still leaving none for me because he's dead centre.

I resign myself to drawing back the covers on my side and simply prodding at Snow's side until he rolls over but his eyes open the second I lay down.

He was waiting up apparently.

"Move over." I give him another prod.

He doesn't so much move over as simply unfurl himself and then get under the covers with me. I'm not complaining, he's very warm and this is preferable.

"Do you maybe want to tell people?" He tries (and fails) to disguise the wicked grin on his face as he slides his hand under my pyjama shirt and lets his hand come to rest on my chest.

I hesitate, very intentionally. I hate myself for it. "It's up to you."

Much to my disdain, a concerned frown desecrates his features. "What's wrong, Baz?"

I just shake my head. "Nothing." Because really, there's nothing wrong for me.

There is definitely something wrong with me though. Doing this day after day, being wrapped up and blissfully happy with Simon Snow. But only because I was told to. Knowing everything I say and feel for him is completely real but at the same time, it's all just a ruse.

"Baz," he presses me. Because I want him to.

"I don't think the Mage would approve," I tell him rather pointedly.

Simon shrugs. "It's not like he gets to pick who I'm dating."

"I suppose." I don't say anything more. I just leave Snow to sit and stew in his own worries.

"Do you want to tell people?" The question comes with more hesitation this time.

"I don't mind," I reiterate. Because I don't. Either Simon lives with the presumption that the Mage will be annoyed at him for us dating or he tells him and he'll know the Mage is annoyed.

Our friends, because they are  _ ours _ now, same circles, don't matter. Bunce won’t care and Dev and Niall won’t care as long as I tell them not to. Even if they were a little put out by the whole friendship thing at first, they warmed to Snow. He is remarkably easy to warm to, though. Bunce too. Wellbelove remains absent and though Dev mightn't prefer it that way, I do.

My family won’t be a problem either. If my father asks I'll just tell him it's an extension of our plot. Then he'll have to go along with it.

Snow basically growls at me, "you must have a preference."

Right. Time to be soft I suppose.

"Simon," I coax because I know how that gets to him, "I want whatever option is going to keep you in my arms."

"Baz." It's more an adoring croon than a warning bark this time. He practically melts on top of me, head coming down to rest against my chest and staring up at me from what I'm sure isn't a flattering angle. But then he lets out a deep sigh and the moment's over, "I'll think on it, yeah? We don't have to decide now."

"Take as long as you need Snow."

That decision eventually gets made for us. At least partially.

**Simon**

I never really gave Baz the final verdict on whether or not we're going to tell people.

I am going to tell Penelope of course, she's my best friend, I have to. I  _ want  _ to.

I just need to figure out how.

How do you broach the subject of going from arch-nemeses to boyfriends in little over a year with your best friend?

I'm assuming that's what we are. Boyfriends. I haven't actually run it by Baz yet. I should do that too.

I suppose there's also the issue of Baz being a bloke. Well, issue isn't the right word, Penny won’t care about that. But it'll be nice to finally have her input on whether or not she thinks I'm gay. Obviously, Baz would be the optimal source for that but he's not forthcoming at the best of times. Particularly when it comes to his emotions. Particularly when those emotions concern me.

As it happens though, I never do have to figure out how to tell Penny.

Me and Baz (or Baz and I, as he so loves to correct me) are just lying in bed. Not even cuddling. He's lying on his stomach reading a book and I've taken to using the curve of his back as a pillow and laying longways across the bed while I aimlessly surf the web on his laptop, which is something he lets me do now, much to my delight.

You wouldn't even think we were dating if it weren't for his hand tucked over mine off to the side, occasionally leaving my grasp to turn a page but always returning. Or the fact that the beds were pushed together.

It really was pretty damning, even to me (and Baz insists I'm thick).

Penny is not thick and immediately connects the dots.

"Oh," she stops short in the doorway, apparently forgetting why she came up here in favour of gesturing between the two of us, "so when did this happen."

Baz props himself up on one elbow, casual as can be, as though we haven't just been caught out in our secret relationship. Not that it really  _ is  _ a secret. I'm still deciding if it's a secret. Secret status is very much pending.

"Bunce," Baz nods to her, somehow managing to be the first to speak despite me seeing Penny first and her being  _ my  _ best friend.

I quickly discover it's not because he tried to get out in front of me, I'm just at a loss for words again. "Well- you see- it started - I'm sorry I didn't-"

Baz groans from beside me. "One sentence at a time please, Snow. Spit it out." He does squeeze my hand too though and that helps some.

I don't have to though because Penny steps in, "it's fine, Simon." I sit up as she walks over and perches on the edge of the bed, the segment that is mine which is for the best because Baz may actually hiss at her. "At least it's not Agatha anymore."

I hear Baz snort beside me and glance over my shoulder to glare at him. "Could you give us a moment?"

He scoffs, "No. It's my room too."

I go to stand up but Penny puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, I really don't want all the gory details thank you very much."

"We started - happened," Merlin I don't know what word to use.

"Got together," Baz supplies looking more smug than usual.

"Yes, got together," I press on, "at the beginning of term," I say it like a question like I'm unsure. I  _ am  _ unsure.

But Baz did just say we were together, which I did already know but it's nice to have it confirmed. Publicly, or at least to one other person, it makes it feel more real somehow.

"Three weeks? Were you ever planning on telling me?" Penny looks more amused than offended, she steals the occasional glance at Baz too.

I swallow, "Could you please not tell anyone else?"

I know she won’t. She's Penny. Of course, she won’t.

"Of course, I won’t," she tells me as soon as I think it, "who's there to tell? No one would believe me anyway."

"Why?" I bristle a little. Or a lot. Sitting up straighter.

Am I not good enough for Baz? Not rich enough or smart enough or in control of my magic...enough?

I always worried about those things with Agatha but with Baz for some reasons I just didn't. Maybe it's because we haven't told anyone about us. Maybe we shouldn't tell anyone about us.

Or maybe I'm just worrying and it's because I know Baz doesn't want that from me. He knows I haven't got money and if I wasn't stupid (according to him) and a useless mage (according to everyone) what would he even have to tease me about. And if our summer conversation about his previously unknown crush (though he refuses to call it that), are any indicator, he actually quite like it. Likes  _ me _ . As more than just someone to make fun of.

Penny looks at me like I'm being daft again, I suppose I am. Baz's expression mirrors hers but with more sardonic amusement.

"Because you two fought for years, Si."

Oh. Yes. That probably was the best explanation.

I resist the urge to sink back into Baz and make him reassure me. He never means to reassure me. He still does.  It's not with honeyed words or gestures that tells me he wants me. It's the way he traces his fingers over my moles or drags his knuckles up my side or leans into my touch every time.

He does tell me he wants this. Even if he doesn't mean it. I appreciate that. It's just easier this way.

"Yeah," I nod along slowly, Penny's expression returns to neutral but Baz's is stuck on annoying and patronising, I think he's doing it on purpose. "Anyway, why did you come here."

"You missed afternoon tea, Simon, I thought your boyfriend might've finally managed to off you."

I feel my cheeks heat at the mention of Baz being my boyfriend. We haven't really used that one yet either. Really though, that's not the pressing matter, "I missed afternoon tea?" I scramble for Baz's laptop again checking the time.

Shit.

This is so much worse than Penny finding out. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, hopefully, I'm back to my regularly scheduled programming and updates will be frequent but we'll see?  
> Regardless hope you enjoy (and I can promise the next chapter is disproportionately long, whether that's good or bad news is up to you)

**Penny**

Now that I think about it, they haven't really been subtle about their feelings, Baz and Simon.

If the stalking and the plotting weren't enough, now that I know about it I can't miss those looks they throw across the table at each other. Or the far worse ones Baz gives Simon when he thinks Simon isn't looking. Those moments when he lets his lip curl up into a genuine smile and his eyelids droop a little. It's always gone the moment Simon looks at him. I wish Baz would stop doing that. I wish he'd let Simon see it.

I don't really think Simon needs the reassurance this time. Not like he used to with Agatha when he never understood her horse things. I still want him to know, though.

I've been watching Baz. I know I have. But it's only for Simon. It's why I started sitting with Baz and his cronies in the first place, to make sure Simon isn't walking into a trap. And now, again, to make sure Baz isn't just messing with him.

I'd think maybe all these longing gazes were a further plot to placate me. But Baz stops if he notices me watching as well. And also, I'm  _ not _ placated. Not yet.

I think Baz is better for Simon than Agatha though. Really though I think a merwolf would be better for Simon than Agatha. At least then he'd know he was miserable instead of trying to deny it.

So, I'm happy for them. I tell Simon as much one day when we're walking back to his room.

Or I'm walking with him because I want to talk. The Cloisters are the other way but I don't mind. Besides I'm stumped with our Magic Words homework and I need to give myself a break before I attack it again. A distraction.

"You and Baz are going well?" I ask because I really am not sure. And I'm worried. I still don't trust Baz even if I enjoy talking with him sometimes.

Simon and Agatha's relationship was always so public. Everyone knew the moment anything happened between them. This whole secret relationship thing makes it harder for me to keep tabs and make sure Simon isn't getting his heart broken.

He nods. "Yeah, 'course."

"Are you intending to go public?" I pry because although I don't want the details of their snogging sessions, I would like to make sure Baz isn't keeping this under wraps because he's embarrassed by Simon or something else stupid.

Simon grunts and shrugs.

So, I wait for an answer as we trudge along. I don't mind if I don't get one. I can always corner and interrogate Baz later.

"I want to. He does too, I think. Just-" Simon sighs to himself and runs a hand through his hair like he tends to do when he's stressed. Though it doesn't catch on as many tangles as usual. Baz's doing perhaps. "I don't care what other people think. But the Mage and the Families and-" he groans, raking a hand through his hair again. Obviously, this has been weighing on him.

So not Baz's fault then. The Mage's. Somehow that's worse.

"Simon, it's okay, " I reach for his hand before he can pull his hair out. "Does Agatha know? Is that why you two have been so much less than normal since the start of term."

Simon stops and turns to look at me, swallowing. "No." The word is quiet and nervous and now I'm worried.

"Simon." I press him with little more than his name and a pointed look.

It works, obviously.

"We saw her at the club during the break and she told the Mage I wasn't in a home."

"What?" I can hear the anger in my voice, none of it directed at Simon.

He grabs my arm just as I turn to stalk off in the direction of the Cloisters. "Don't. Don't make something of it."

Don't make something of it? How am I supposed to do that? She tries to ruin Simon's summer, knowing full well how bad they are for him usually. Knowing what the Mage usually puts him though.

How dare she?

For a moment I wonder if maybe this whole relationship with Baz is Simon's way of trying to get back at the Mage and Agatha. But he's not spiteful like that. Not unless it's Baz he's being spiteful towards.

"Simon, it  _ is _ something. I can't just ignore it."

"Yes, you can. This is why I didn't tell you."

"You can't just let people do this shit to you, Simon."  _ I  _ won’t just let people do this shit to him.

"It's fine."

"It's not."

"Penny," he spits my name through gritted teeth, "just drop it okay."

I'm not going to drop it. I say, "fine," anyway and resolve to chew Agatha out about it later when Simon isn't around.

"Thank you."

I hesitate a moment given the tension between us right now. But I suppose that doesn't really matter. "Simon, if you want to tell people about you and Baz you should. The Mage is never even here, if he even does find out it won’t be for a while."

He does relax a little, I see his shoulders slump slightly and not from defeat. "Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Pen." He offers me a weak smile and I return it.

We've been static for a while though and I think it's enough to clear my head enough to get back to work. "I'll talk to you later, I want to get in some study before dinner."

Simon gives me a nod and another unsure smile as he keeps heading back to Mummers House.

I go the opposite way, trying to figure out if I need to go and yell at Agatha now or later.

**Simon**

I  _ have  _ been thinking about what Penny said to me. For Baz's sake. And for mine.

I've also been trying not to think about it because the thought of the Mage finding out about me and Baz, after how badly he reacted to me being at his house this summer, well it sets me on edge. He'd probably say this was some kind of hollow political manoeuvring and that I need to leave the Pitches alone. Leave  _ Baz  _ alone.

But it's not and I won’t. No matter what he says.

But still. I don't like thinking about it.

I'm just heading up to my room,  _ our room _ , when I pass Baz on the landing.

"Snow," he greets me because even though we're alone out here it's not our room and we don't do the whole sneaking around thing.

Not that I don't want to hold his hand under the desk or drag him into empty classrooms for a quick snog. Baz is adamant that we don't. He insists that this is either a secret or it's not and if anyone finds out it's going to be because we let them know, not because we were caught.

I half wish we'd get caught. It would make all this so much easier.

"Basil." I catch him by the upper arm so he can't walk past me.

He arches an eyebrow, knowing full well I only call him Basil when I want something. Really, I hadn't even noticed. I just knew it made him more agreeable.  _ He  _ was the one who told  _ me  _ I do it when I want something from him.

And I do.

I want him mainly.

In our room.

Because that's the only place we're allowed the do this.

I let my thumb stroke up and down his arm where I'm grasping it. "Where are you going?"

"To practice."

"Football?"

"Violin."

"You could practice in our room." It's not so much an offer as a plea I think.

Baz shakes his head ever so slightly raising a hand to pry mine off his arm. "No, I'm working on a new piece and it's far from perfect."

"I don't mind."

"You will."

Why does everything he says sound like a threat? Can he not turn that off now that we're doing this?

"Basil," I try again, "practice in our room." This time it comes as a demand and Baz's eyebrow rises ever higher. "Please," I add off-handily.

I can't see it in his expression but I can hear it in the way he sighs, he's caved. "Fine but I warned you, it's awful right now."

It isn't awful. In fact, initially it's very, very good but that's only because Baz refuses to practice the song he's working on and just keeps playing ones he's already learned. Or 'mastered' as he phrases. Tosser.

It is nice to hear him play though. I just lay on my back with my head on the wrong end of the bed and listen to him eyes closed because he refuses to face me for some reason. And although I don't exactly dislike the view of him from behind that's not really something we're getting into yet. Not for a while, at least.

Somehow, I like it more when he plays the one he's still learning. When he misses notes and curses even though I didn't really hear anything wrong with it. It's a nice reminder that he isn't so infallible. That he isn't just automatically good at everything, that he has to work for it like the rest of us.

I used to think he was just naturally good at everything back when we were enemies but that was because we never saw each other. I'm with him all the time now so I see how often he studies and practices violin and I go out with him some nights when he decides he wants to kick a football around the pitch.

He is still basically a natural at magic, especially compared to me. He picked the whole snogging thing up pretty fast too. Not that I'm complaining about that one.

A particularly high-pitched screech slices through the air and Baz sighs to himself.

"I thought it was good," I tell him because I know he's getting frustrated.

Baz turns to me like he'd forgotten I was here. "That's because you don't know what it's supposed to sound like."

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure it was shite then? Happy?"

He just smirks, more to himself than me I think and destrings his bow, packing his things away. "I'm going to hunt," he says swallowing a little.

He's still not really comfortable talking about the vampire thing. I'm trying to fix that. I'm not really sure how to though.

Before I can even come up with a response he's out the door.

So, I settle in for the night and resolve myself to finally making a decision.

**Baz**

When I head to bed that night, I'm not at all surprised to find Snow sleeping on my side. Actually, sleeping this time. He's snoring softly and if I weren't so enamoured by him that might annoy me.

It annoys me a little anyway but I can shoulder it.

I rouse him anyway, shaking his shoulder until her stirs.

"Hey," he says, half in protest half in greeting as he bats my hand away.

"Get off my bed."

He rolls over onto his back, blinking blearily up at me, a scowl attempting to claim his features but not quite managing to overpower his newly awakened state. "Don't be an arse, I was keeping it warm for you."

I'm half sure in his sleep addled state Snow is confusing himself (and in turn, me). "What?"

"You get cold," he tells me like it's some fact  _ I  _ didn't know, "thought it might help."

He doesn't roll over so I prod at where his bare shoulder is peeking out under the blanket. "Then move."

"I'm not doing it again, you're a prick," he mumbles more into the pillow than at me.

I jab him harder. "Move."

He does eventually manage to roll over, not just onto the divot between our beds but onto his own.

Too far.

I get into bed anyway leaving him be for a moment.

He was right, it is terribly warm. Snow doesn't usually sleep under the covers but he has tonight.

For me?

Maybe.

Doubtful.

But maybe.

"Snow."

He doesn't respond.

"Snow," I try again because I know he's not asleep. After all these years I can tell when he's asleep.

He ignores me again.

"Simon," I'd hesitate to call it a coo but it's certainly far softer than I'd like.

At first, I think he's going to ignore me again. He slowly rolls over though and lets his gaze meet mine.

"Thank you," I tell him, seeing his lip quirk up even so slightly no matter how hard he tries to will it away. I want to ask him to come back or even just go to him. I'm not sure I'd be able to say it in any way that isn't insulting though, so I just pat the sheets beside me.

"Can't," he shakes his head, "I'm not allowed on your bed."

I'm not sure which path I'd regret more, telling him he is or isn't allowed. So instead I take a deep breath and steel myself to say something pathetic, "am I allowed on yours?"

"No," he says immediately and I'm sure only spitefully, but I can test that out later. I see his features soften though and it's only a moment before he rolls back over into me. "You're a prick," he tells me as he tucks his face into my neck. He usually prefers to lay his head on my chest, at least when he's the one doing the laying on, but I've the blanket pulled up to my chin.

One more concession I suppose. I push the blanket down till it's halfway down my chest and Snow immediately moves to scrunch it up into a pillow for himself because apparently, I'm too bony to use as a pillow. Even though he does. Frequently and without permission. I adore it.

"What's on your mind?" I ask because I've known Snow long enough to hear when his brain is trying and failing to tick over.

He shrugs and it scrunches my pyjama shirt so one of the buttons is digging in uncomfortably but I can't bring myself to move.

"Telling people. The Mage finding out."

This is apparently much more pressing that I'd thought. I figured Snow would just add it to his list of problems to ignore. I wouldn't mind that. I don't even deserve this, laying here with him in my arms, so I'll take what I can get.

I run a hand absently through Snow's hair. I can do that now, it doesn't have half as many tangles since we started dating and it's entirely my doing. "Snow, whatever problems the  Mage will bring mean little in comparison to the prestige of dating me."

" _ I'm  _ the Chosen One, I think you're the one getting more prestige."

I wouldn't call it prestige but I'd certainly be very happy about it.

I scoff of course because I can't just let him win, even now. "That prophecy is not enough to remedy the damage done by your personality and mannerisms."

He doesn't look up at me. I know he's got a scowl across his face though. I also know he doesn't mean it. "What's wrong with my... the way I am?"

"Everything," I tell him although I really mean 'nothing'.

He just grunts.

"Snow," I press gently, "if you do decide to tell everyone, let me know."

"I'm not gonna just out you." He actually sounds a little affronted by that. I don't blame him.

"Nothing like that, I just need to be the one who breaks it to my father before Dev or someone gets to him."

"Why?"

You'd think Snow could understand the plight of a boy who wants to be the first to tell his father about his boyfriend. I think Snow understands  _ me  _ too well for that though.

"So, I can let him know before Christmas."

"Why?" Snow presses again like an idiot.

"Because-" I stop.

Oh.

I'd assumed because we spent the summer together Snow would be coming with me for Christmas. Was that an incorrect assumption?

"You know for someone who gives me so much shit about my speech you should learn to finish your sentences." Snow's remark would have been more piercing if he'd managed not to let out a yawn at the end of it.

"Because I thought maybe you'd want to come with me for Christmas," I mention, trying to play it off but I'm not even sure as what. I don't know what to do here. Tack on a disclaimer about how it's fine if he wants to stay with Bunce but my offer is there if he wants it. Because I want him to want it.

No. That's not the Pitch way.

"Yeah." I hear him murmur as he shifts slightly against me and the blanket, settling back into sleep again I think.

"What?"

"Yeah, I want to come with you."

Well.

That was easy.

He's not done yet though. "And yeah, I want to tell people I think. So, tell me when you've told you father, yeah?"

That is not so easy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya kids, so like I said this one is much longer than the others but that is not a trend that will continue. The reason this is so long is because this was originally a "the truth will set you free" scene. So regardless I hope you like this and if you see anything inconsistent plz point it out to me

**Simon**

Baz wasn't happy with me when last we saw each other. I was supposed to go with him to Hampshire over winter break but The Mage pulled me out of class on the last day for a mission.

Baz didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He looked livid though.

I'm almost entirely certain the only reason The Mage brought me here was to keep me away from Baz. He hasn't exactly been subtle about disapproving of our relationship. And he really didn't need my help to dispose of a few rogue harpies. They weren't even hurting anyone, but a few of them had started flocking to Hyde Park at night and it was giving the Normals a hell of a fright.

He's not been half as bad as I expected though. No threats to expel me (or Baz), no room transfers, no calling me into his office to give me a lecture. I'd think he didn't know at all if not for when he'd come to our room to collect me for some mission and seen our beds pushed together.

I'd been mortified.

Baz was just amused.

It didn't really click what the Mage was doing though until he offered to let me spend winter break with him and his men. A few years ago, I'd have been overjoyed at the idea. Now I know it's just hollow political manoeuvring.

Baz's influence I think. He's as obsessed with magickal politicks as The Mage is. He always tells me The Mage is trying to use me and how he's manipulating me and such forth. I just never really paid it much mind till now.

"Really Simon, I do insist." The Mage prompts me. "It would be good for you to get to know the men, you could join up after this whole thing with The Humdrum is over."

I don't think I will join up. I think after I've dealt with the Humdrum I'd just like to go and spend time with Penny and Baz and Agatha. Just spend a few years not being 'the chosen one'. Besides, I already know some of The Mage's men. I know Premal and he became a dick when he joined The Mage's men. Penny says so too.

"I can't, sir, I've somewhere else to be."

Baz says I should stop calling him 'sir' since I'm his heir but the fact that he's never actually told me his name keeps it that way (not that I've asked). He's headmaster of Watford though, so I have to call him sir anyway.

"The Wellbeloves?" He asks. "Do you need me to take you there?"

He  _ knows  _ it isn't the Wellbeloves. And I've had to get myself everywhere since first year, he doesn't take me anywhere unless it's to and from missions. Sometimes he doesn't even take me back to Watford, he'll just pay the cab fare and send me on my way.

"No, sir, Hampshire. I can get there myself."

"Simon." His tone is warning, I think he's beginning to lose patience and I am as well, to be honest. "You should stay away from that Pitch boy."

"Duly noted," I say dryly. That's Baz's influence too I think.

"Simon, I think you should stay with me."

I can smell smoke dampening the air, I'm sure he smells it too.

Baz would say something witty I'm sure. Penny would say something bold. All I can think of is ' _ I think you should shove your opinion up your arse'.  _ I can't say that. I think Baz or Penny might though, just a bit more eloquently.

I turn around and walk away from him, calling, "I'll see you next semester." over my shoulder. Feeling anxious but a little proud of myself for managing to leave off the 'sir'.

I take a cab to Hampshire. It's a long drive and a slightly pricey one. I'd have called Baz if I could have, but I don't have a phone. I should have called ahead probably, to tell him I'm still coming.

I'm worried he'll still be mad.

I'm worried he might've waited at Watford for me and won’t even be there when I get in, but I've been with The Mage for a few days now and I doubt Baz would have waited that long.

I try not to think about those things. But in a car ride with nothing to do and the ever-looming promise of my boyfriend at the end of it, it's hard not to think about those things. Anything concerning Baz is hard not to think about, it always is.

The cabbie won't drive down onto their property, says it's haunted (I don't tell him that it is). So, I just pay him and walk the rest of the way.

The last time I'd come it had been in a car with Baz, I hadn't really considered how lucky that was until now.

It’s not exactly a short trek. And it's wet with snow and it's all mixed in with the dirt in places to create a sludge that attaches itself to me. I'm still in my school shoes and so my socks end up soaked through and the bottoms of my trousers are covered in mud as the snow melts away. Every now and then a gust of wind splatters more snow onto me, so now my jumper is drenched too.

I still feel a bit too hot though. I suppose that's one upside.

I finally make it to the door. I'm not entirely sure if I'm meant to just wrap on the door, or if I should use the creepy brass knocker. It has a face on it.

Eventually, I just knock my knuckles against the door a few times. It's a big house and I'm almost certain no one heard it. In a house that big surely, you'd need a doorbell.

Vera opens the door not long after though. She eyes me wearily for a moment, giving me a once over.

"Uh, hi," I say with a small wave.

She tuts at my soaked clothes. Last time I'd told her she didn't need to be so formal, to treat me like a Grimm, I almost regret that now.

"I'll go fetch Basilton," she tells me, ushering me in and onto the mat, shutting the door behind me before scurrying off.

I'm not waiting there long. Some of the mud on my pants is starting to cake, but that's because the snow is melting, not because the water is drying.

I reach down and pry the jumper from where it's sticking to my body. It does nothing, it immediately resticks. I hope it doesn't shrink. I shrunk my jumper accidentally second year and Penny had to spell it back to its regular size.

"Snow?" I almost jump when he speaks, I hadn't heard him come in.

I go to respond and then immediately snap my mouth closed.

He's wearing jeans again.

Merlin, Morgan and Methuselah, I'd forgotten how good he looked in jeans.

"What, turn up at my house and can't even be bothered with greetings?" He asks, teasing, but not still mad, I don't think.

"You look really good," I say, openly staring at him. I'm his boyfriend, I'm allowed to.

"You look like shit. You also look like you're covered in it."

I pout but he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, keeping one hand firmly on my chest. To keep me from covering him in whatever is all over me I think.

"Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

* * *

Baz insisted I shower before he'd give me a set of clothes to wear. It's probably for the best, my limbs are aching a little and I think I pulled a muscle in my hip. Harpies are agile things, particularly when they're flying.

He also gives me some of the clothes he  bought me over the summer to wear. I didn't bring all of them back to Watford. I barely brought any back actually. I still feel a little guilty letting him buy them for me.

He's waiting for me when I come out of the bathroom. He's also reading a book so he can pretend he's not.  But whenever Baz is actually reading, he finishes his page before he'll pay any attention to me. It immediately snaps shut this time.

He gets up from a chair beside the fire and walks over to me. I meet him halfway. Partially because he'll sometimes stop if he thinks I'm trying to make him make the first move and partially because it's a very large room and the few seconds he'd take to cross it feel like they'll be too many.

So we meet in the middle, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. He grabs at my waist and pulls me into him. We've only been apart a few days but it's a little more forceful than usual and has a bit more unbridled passion.

It is still only a kiss hello (or our second one I suppose, but our first in private) so it's relatively tame.

"You should have called, I could have driven you." He says as he pulls away, a little breathless.

"Don't have a phone." I explain with a small shrug, "I would’ve called if I could have."

A frown decorates his features for a moment. "I'll buy you one tomorrow."

I frown back at him, hoping to put more stubborn intensity into the gaze. "No, you won’t, I can buy my own things."

"You don't have any money, Snow."

I go to respond but he's right, so my mouth snaps shut.

"It's settled then, we go shopping tomorrow." He turns away from me clasping his hands together as he goes to the far side of the room, rummaging around in his desk for a moment.

"You don't have to do this," I say quietly.  _ Not again _ , I don't say.

"Yes, but I  _ want  _ to." He says, resurfacing with his laptop. "Besides, we need to do some Christmas shopping."

"For who?"

"For you."

"Absolutely not." I shake my head violently at him. Folding my arms across my chest. I don't want him buying me a phone, let alone anything else. "You're not buying me anything else."

He sighs and tosses his laptop down on the bed, with a carelessness that is alarming when dealing with such an expensive object. "You're already starting to grow out of the clothes I bought you in summer."

I march over to him, leaning against one of the posts of his bed (because of course, he has a four-poster bed, the posh tit). "I can wear your things." And I can, I like wearing his things.  __ It means something when you wear your boyfriend’s clothes, doesn't it?

"You going to wear my underwear too, Snow?" He asks walking over to me and where I'm leaning. He reaches out and pulls the collar of the button down he gave me out from under the sweater, smoothing it down. "For the next two weeks?"

He has a point. A point that brings a bit of a flush to my cheeks. "You are not buying me pants, Baz."

"I'm going to have to." He says with a shrug, pulling away from me and sitting back down on his bed. "I think I'd like to get you a suit too."

"No." I hold up a hand. "I'm drawing the line, that's too much." It was too much a long time ago.

He doesn't give up though. "It would be your Christmas present to me?"

I roll my eyes at him. "How is that a Christmas present for you? You'd be the one paying for it."

I think he wanted me to sit down with him because when I don't he eventually gets to his feet. He slips his fingers into my belt loops and pulls me off the post and into him. "Well, you know in all those shitty movies about straight people, where the man buys the woman lingerie and everyone pretends it's a gift for her when really it's just a gift for him?" He asks, calling them stupid as if he's not a little bit weak for the occasional rom-com. "It's a bit like that." He leans down and whispers the last bit in my ear.

"Did you just compare me in a suit to lingerie?" I ask somehow managing to flush a little deeper.

"I don't know, we'll have to get you in both to see." He smirks at me.

I give him a light slap on the shoulder. "Like hell, we will."

He raises an eyebrow. "The suit at least then? Besides you need one to wear to Christmas dinner." He asks, still very close. I think he can tell I'm not budging though because he adds a "Come on, Simon."

Fuck.

He still rarely calls me Simon. Usually, I like it but right now I hate him for it.

"Fine." I concede. If only because it will make him happy. Also, because it means I won’t have to keep borrowing them from the Wellbelove’s and me and Agatha still aren’t exactly on good terms.

"Thank you, Simon." He says, leaning in to kiss me. It's brief and chaste, but it gives me far too long to think about how much easier this was when we started out. Before he knew how to play me like that fucking violin of his. I don't mind though. Not really. He's more comfortable with this now. I'd take Baz being comfortable in our relationship over being unable to persuade me into letting him buy me a suit any day.

"Now, we have a date to get on with." He says, relinquishing me.

"What? Where are we going?" Honestly knowing Baz it's somewhere fancy and far too posh. The kind of place that has more than one fork set at the table.

He frowns at me and tilts his head. "Do you want to go somewhere? I thought you'd be tired from doing the Mage's bidding while he tricks you into thinking you're saving the world."

I set my jaw, considering going back on my agreement to the suit. Then I remember the look in his eye on the last day of term and how very unlike him it is to just forgive and forget. I sigh slowly. "I don't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to go anywhere but here for the winter break."

"Good. I was thinking we'd just stay in, watch movies and get takeout, it is mid-afternoon after all, there's not many hours left in the day." He says, nodding towards the laptop on the bed. And blatantly trying to dodge the subject.

"Baz," I say, taking a step closer to him and taking his face in my hands, making him look at me. "I left as soon as I could." His expression hardens into a frown. "I know you don't like him, but I can't just say no when he asks me to go with him. He's technically my guardian and the only reason I'm even allowed to attend Watford."

The Mage is a contentious topic for us, so we usually avoid talking about him. I think he was trying to avoid it this time too. I'm not really the type to avoid these things though, not when they're causing problems, it's easier if we just deal with them.

I can start to see the anger seep into Baz's expression though. Merlin, I didn't want to do this. "He tried to get me to stay with him over Christmas, he's never offered before. So, he hates you exactly as much as you hate him." I try to make it sound like I'm making a point about their mutual hatred. I'm not though and he knows it.

I think what Baz is most scared of in all this, is that I'll choose the Mage over him. That when it all comes down to it if the Mage says kill, he thinks I will.

I won’t. He needs to know that.

I as good as just told him I'd picked him over the Mage. I shouldn't have. Saying it out loud makes it seem true. Like that was what had occurred this afternoon at Hyde Park. It's not really. Not properly. It will sate Baz though.

It does. His expression softens slightly. "So, how is movies and pizza sounding?" He asks.

I smile at him. "Sounds good." Really though, everything with him sounds good, even fancy restaurants I'm not posh enough to be at.

He sits down on his bed, resting his back against the headboard and pulling his computer up onto his lap. "What do you want to watch?"

I walk over and take the laptop from him, earning a few protests that cease as soon as I deposit myself into his lap in its stead. I settle in between his legs and lean back into his chest, making sure I've slid down enough that he can rest his head atop mine and still see. "What do you want to watch?" I pose the question back to him because he seems to have given up control of his laptop in favour of wrapping his arms around my middle.

"I don't mind." Says a voice beside my ear just moments before he presses his lips to my cheek.

Baz kept insisting he didn't care, so it ended up being my pick, so we just ended up watching  _ Doctor Who  _ reruns.  Which is, admittedly, a little odd given I used to always watch that with Agatha.

I hear the creaking of the door and then Baz commanding. "Knock." From behind me and it causes me to jump a little. I give the spacebar a quick smack to pause the video. Turning my head just in time to see a door slam.

Mordelia hammers on the door and opens it without waiting for a response, starting to say something but Baz gets there first. "Why are you here, where's Vera."

Mordelia rolls her eyes in a way that's all too reminiscent of her older brother. "Cooking dinner. Mum sent me to see if you're eating with us."

"No, we're not," Baz says, shooing her away with his hand. "Close the door behind you when you leave."

Mordelia doesn't. Instead, she shouts down the hallway. "He's not coming to dinner Mum, he's too busy snogging the Chosen One."

I almost choke on my own saliva as I burst into laughter.

"Mordelia." Baz snaps at her, doing neither of us a favour in this situation as he lifts me out of his lap. He pushes past her and I'm half convinced he might stop and push her over for good measure, but he just disappears down the hallway, presumably to talk to his step-mother.

I think she's about to follow him, but she looks over to me for a moment. "You are snogging, aren't you? Dad doesn't like to talk about it."

Merlin, I didn't even think about all that. Not even after Baz brought it up. Because I didn't want to.

"Yeah, we're snogging. He  _ is  _ my boyfriend now, after all."

"Can boys have boyfriends?" She presses me.

"Yep," I say, moving to face her, sitting cross-legged on the bed because I don't think she's leaving any time soon. "And girls can have girlfriends if they want too."

Mordelia just nods for a moment, like she's thinking. "Do you love him?"

I nearly choke again. It’s only been a few months since I’d seen her but I’d forgotten how blunt she can be.

I shrug though. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "Maybe. If not now, probably some day. We've only been dating a few months. I like him though, I like him a lot."

She seems to deem that an acceptable answer because she's nodding again, in that wise way children often do. "Dad's been teaching me magic." She informs me. "Did you know there are nearly two hundred cases of spontaneous human combustion in recorded history? The Normals think it's just a thing that happens, they don't know it's magic. I know it's magic though."

"Huh, cool," I say because it is kind of cool.

She keeps going though, "if you hurt my brother, there will be nearly two hundred and one cases." She says narrowing her eyes at me. She's adorable, but it is a little unsettling, particularly when I think back to how dangerous Baz was at 11. She's not 11 yet, nowhere near it, but I’ve played enough football with her to know she’ll do pretty much whatever it takes. 

I also don't have the heart to tell her that’s how there being 'nearly' a number of something works. So, I just say, "If I hurt your brother I'm pretty sure he'll immolate me himself."

I can't help but wonder if I'd let him.

Mordelia looks like she’s about to say something else but then Baz walks back in. "Why are you still here? Leave."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Whatever have fun snogging the Chosen One, Basil." She says, walking off, leaving the door open behind her.

Baz kicks it shut with his heel. "She didn't give you too much trouble, did she?" He says, a scowl across his face.

"Loads. She takes after you I think."

He gives me a withering look.

I just hold open my arms for him. "The Chosen One would like to be snogged now."

**Baz**

I narrow my eyes at Snow and that shit eating grin of his for a moment. Like I'm not going to give him what he wants if he asks for it like that. I always will though, he knows that by now.

"And the Chosen One always gets what he wants doesn't he?" I tease him. We both know that isn't true. Though he certainly gets whatever he wants from me. He knows it too, the prick.

He just looks at me for a moment, beautiful blue eyes under stubby bronze lashes, mouth slightly open like it always is and quirked up ever so slightly in the corners. I'm done for. A complete goner.

He unfurls his legs under me as I push him down onto his back so I can look at him. I don't want to crush him, so I rest my forearms either side of his head, taking some of my weight off his chest. His eyes glance to some strands of my hair as it reaches out to trail across his face.

Then he meets my eyes. "I missed you." He says quietly, not like he's embarrassed about it or nervous, just because we're only inches apart and he knows he doesn't need to try hard to be heard. He knows I'm listening. He always gets quiet when we get this close.

"It was only a few days," I say, raising an eyebrow at him. As if I didn't miss him dearly. As if I didn't spend the first few days of winter break skulking around in a huff because Snow had gone off with the Mage instead of me.

I know it's not fair to him, for me to hold it against him. He didn't have a choice, I know that.

He's here now, though. He came back to me.

I should reimburse him for the trip.

I doubt he'd let me, but I should try.

"So?" He says as his eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips for a moment.

I think he wants to kiss me.

I should kiss him.

He wants me to.

_ I  _ want to.

I do.

I give a small sigh as I lean in pressing my lips to his. "So, I missed you, too." It's easier like this. Easier to be open with him when his mouth is against mine and I can just murmur the words into it. When I have him right there, a reminder that this isn't me getting wrapped up in some fifth year daydream. He's here and he's real and he wants this. He wants to hear me say I missed him and I want to tell him. It's just easier this way.

"How much?" He presses me, taking advantage of my good mood no doubt.

I could tell him, I suppose. Or I could just show him.

I've grown beyond figuring out where on Snow's neck he likes to have my lips. I now know what he likes as well as where.

A kiss just under his ear.

My teeth dragging (carefully) over the mole just under his chin.

The stretch of skin just above his collarbone, he loses it when I suck on. I have to tug down the collar of his jumper to get to that one.

"Baz." He gasps my name.

"Yes, love?" I ask. I'm not sure if his outburst was the precursor to something he wanted to say or just due to pleasure, but my response is the same either way.

I feel his legs wrap around my hips and he rolls us over so he's on top. He's grinning at me. I can only pray he gets his mouth back on mine before my smirk turns into something less good at hiding how enamoured I am with him. (Not that he doesn't already know)

"Show me how much you missed me." He's taunting me. He's challenging me as well though.

I  _ have  _ been showing him how much I missed him.

I haven't really though, have I? Not in the way he wants. Not in the way that  _ really  _ shows how much I missed him.

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment, looking up at him through the few inches of space between us that is still far too many.

Fuck it.

I lunge up to him, tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him back down with me when I fall into the mattress. My mouth moving against his. My tongue sliding between his parted lips. My chest arching up into his as I press as much of us together as I can. Not slow and methodical, but desperate and longing, like we've been apart for years not days. Not trying to please him but taking what I want. What I need. What I  _ missed _ .

He pulls back a little and I follow him up, my head lifting up off the pillow a few inches before I give up and let him breathe.

He's smirking at me, but he's panting too and a little red. "That much?" He asks.

"Did I say I was done?" I ask, returning his smirk with my (far better) one and rolling us over again.

My hands are still in his hair so I've got my full weight on him now and both our chests are still heaving. Snow brought this on himself though. He literally asked for it. So, I dive back in and he doesn't protest.

He just snakes his hands around my back, under my shirt. Then he nips at my lip. I hesitate a moment, so he does it again. I return the gesture this time and he lets out a small gasp before it turns into a smile against my lips.

He trusts me not to sink my fangs into him a lot more than I trust myself. He never wears that bloody cross anymore and he always not-so-subtly coaxes me into biting him. I don't think he likes it more than anything else we do really, I just think he wants me to be more comfortable with it. I haven't bitten him yet. We haven’t even had any near misses. I still worry though. I worry that one day he's going to stick his tongue in my mouth and my fangs are going to pop and it'll ruin everything.

He never lets me dwell on it for long though. He's not letting me dwell on it right now. He flips me onto my back. I can't help but laugh at little. The soft one that I do when we're like this, the one that always makes him smile. It still astounds me that anything about me has the power to do that.

He pulls away a little. This is why I need to be on top. He keeps pulling away when I let him get there.

I follow him up and he keeps pulling away, but I'm not about to admit defeat.

We end up both sitting up, him basically on my lap. He's breathing heavily, basically panting, I am too. So, I give him a break, but I don't give me one.

My arms wrap around his waist and tug him closer into me, resuming my ministrations against his neck between gasps for air.

Apparently, Snow takes my refusal to slow down as a challenge because he pants out. "I missed you that much too."

"Still not done," I mumble against the warm skin of his neck.

He laughs a little. Not cruel or mocking, just happily. Warmth spreads through my chest in response. "Me neither." He tells me.

I tug at the collar of his jumper trying to get to the moles on his chest where he's not buttoned his shirt. It's too much effort though. I run my hands down his chest and curl my fingers under the hem of his jumper.  He lifts his arms when I do, letting me peel it off him.

When I press my lips back against his skin he wraps an arm around my neck and tangles a hand in my hair, basically cradling my head, softly, tenderly. I smirk a little at that. It means I'm winning. He's stopped fighting.

But maybe I want to fight.

I slip my hands under his thighs and lift him a little, dropping him rather unceremoniously onto his back.

He lets out a small yelp and I can't help but laugh at him.

I lean back in to kiss him and feel him smile against my mouth as he throws an arm around my neck. He always does that when I start laughing. Or when I start laughing like this at least, when we're snogging, or cuddling.

I kiss him and draw away a few inches every few seconds, pausing to breathe and to let him breathe. I swear he's only intent on breathing when I don't want to let him, because he flips us over again, so I'm on my back. Kissing me with a new sense of urgency.

I laugh again. This time he returns it. A soft chuckle against my lips. I feel the vibrations against my skin and in my chest, though the latter has little to do with our contact.

We continue like that for a while. Grappling with each other, rolling around, more laughter than is generally expected in a snog, but it's not unpleasant if anything it's enjoyable. It's like when we used to fight, one of us always trying to get the upper hand. I suppose we are fighting to be on top, but not really, it's roughhousing at most. Tumbling around across the sheets with fingers tangled in each other’s hair and clothes, lips and tongues and occasionally teeth clashing.

Snow favours his left side when he rolls over. I do too, but I've been keeping to my right, for the most part, so we don't end up toppling off the bed.

He's very distracting though. He's undone the buttons on my shirt and he's trailing kisses from my navel to my jaw.

I roll us over and immediately realise my mistake.

"Simon, don't-"

But it's too late, he flips us over and I go right off the edge.

I think I'm being smart, by holding him tightly to me, I'm not though, because it just means I have a whole extra human being worth of force slamming into me as I hit the ground.

My bed always was too high. Crowley that hurt. Snow still has a hand in my hair though, so I don't smack my skull into the floor at least.

He's laughing again. "Sorry."

I try to look angry, to scold him. I can't bring myself to. I let out an involuntary giggle.

He grins at me and I can't help but return it. Then we both dive back in. He leans down to me, I reach up to him and we're off again. The hardwood isn't as pleasant as my bed, but there's nothing on the ground that my idiot boyfriend can throw me off, so I suppose that's a perk.

We roll around a little more until I'm on top again. He leans up to kiss me but I place a hand on his chest and push him back down.

"Baz." He lets out a soft somewhat undignified whine and I can't help but smirk.

"Yes, love?" I ask, getting to work, opening the buttons of his shirt one at a time. It's not as easy as just taking off a regular shirt, but I prefer it this way. I have to wait. He has to wait. There's something more enjoyable about being forced to give it a minute.

Everywhere I pop a button, I place a kiss. He gives a soft sigh with each one.

I consider popping the button on his pants for good measure but refrain from it.

He looks down at me for a moment, propping himself up on his elbows. He beckons me back towards him with one finger like he can't just reach down and pull me back up. I know exactly what he's going to do. I let him do it anyway.

Sure enough the second my lips meet his I'm on my back against the floor again. He holds himself above me, like he's so very fond of doing, on all fours, because he likes to make me prove I want him. I do. But maybe I'm not feeling so co-operative today.

I lean up, stopping just before his lips, letting my breath reach out and trace what I won’t with my lips.

Then I take his bottom lip between my teeth and pull him back down towards me. He follows when I pull, however, lowering himself so our bare chests are pushed together and grabbing at my thighs as I bring them up on either side of his, preparing to turn us over again.

"You're not going to back down today, are you?" He asks, somewhat breathlessly.

I flip us and he grins up at me. "Do you want me to?" I ask raising an eyebrow at him. I won’t, even if he wants me to, anyway.

"No, this is fun." His words come wrapped in a soft sigh as I lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth.

"It is," I agree as I kiss the mole on his cheek.

We simmer down eventually. Snow's compulsion to tumble around with me is easily trumped by his need for food. That's one thing I don't really mind being second place to.

I'm not so easily beaten by my basic “human” needs though, so I get it delivered instead of picking it up myself. There’s only one pizza place in town that will actually come down the driveway and knock on the door.

It doesn't take long. Snow coaxes me into another episode of that show he's so fond of.

He curls up against my side, letting me sling an arm around him as my knuckles brush gently up and down across the exposed bit of skin where his (thankfully rebuttoned) shirt has ridden up. I'm not tracing his moles or trying to get him riled up, it's just nice to be able to touch him, innocently, thoughtlessly, for no reason or purpose other than that I want to.

There's a knock this time. Vera obviously.

I thank her and go retrieve our food. Snow is sitting up on my bed, expectantly.

"You are not eating pizza in my bed, Snow."

He gives an exaggerated sigh but gets up.

I settle us down at the foot of my bed, leaning back against it. Snow doesn't lean back, he leans forward to where the food is. I let myself watch him for a moment, a smile that is far fonder than I'd usually allow makes its way onto my face.

He glances back at me when I don't move to eat. "What?"

"Nothing." Is all I say, leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza.

He doesn't press me, just gives me a knowing smile and takes hold of my free hand. It's become a habit of his, holding my hand while I eat. I think it's so I can't cover my fangs. It works. It used to make me hesitate and wait until he let go. He never would let go though. He'd just rub his thumb across the back of my hand. It was his way of telling me he didn't care  , I think, that he wanted me to stop caring so much too. He never did it in front of anyone else though, just when it was us, not even around Bunce.

It helped. I'm less self-conscious about it now. He still holds my hand when he can anyway.

He'd told me he was bad at this whole 'boyfriend' thing when we'd started out. He's not though, he's really not.

He does release my hand for a moment, reaching over an tearing off a bit of garlic bread. He pauses with it halfway into his mouth, because of course, he tried to shove the whole bit in one go. His eyes go wide and he tears it away. I'm half convinced he's going to run to the bathroom and wash his mouth out.

"I swear if you accuse me of poisoning it, Snow." I frown a little, the slightly fuzzy feeling in my chest fading fast.

He shakes his head. "Can we still snog?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "If I eat the garlic I mean."

I try to hold back a smile. I can't. I try to choke back a laugh. I can't do that either apparently.

Snow tries to look affronted. He fails as badly as I do.

I don't answer, I just lean into him. He closes his eyes and his mouth falls slightly further open. I glance at it for a moment. I nearly take the bait. I force myself to lean forward and take a bite of the garlic bread in his hand though.

He nearly drops it. Then he glares at me, not properly, not angrily. "That had been in my mouth you know." He points out.

I shrug. "Surprisingly enough, Snow, I'm well enough acquainted with your mouth that your saliva doesn't bother me anymore." Besides, he didn't even bite it, it's not like it was chewed up.

He tosses the remainder of it into his mouth, tearing off another bit before taking my hand again. His finger are slick with oil from the food, but I can't really bring myself to care. Acclimatising to getting food everywhere is basically one of the prerequisites to dating Snow.

But it's nice and I know he just wants me to feel okay about the whole vampire thing.

Crowley, I don't deserve him.

Most of the time I can just push it away, like he does, try not to think about the Families plot and what I'm doing to Snow and why all this really happened.

But then there are moments like these where I'm just happy.

Where I'm happy and it all feels like a lie. Where every fibre of my being is screaming for me to just tell him and then beg forgiveness because I want this.

He wants this too.

But it isn't real and I need it to be.

"Simon," I start and he looks up immediately, he always does when I use his first name.

"Mhmm?" He doesn't so much say as make a high-pitched noise around a mouthful of pizza.

I lean my head sideways until it's resting in the crook of his neck because I want to and so I don't have to look at him. "If this ever ends, if we ever break up-"

The noise he makes this time is less curious and more distressed but he's got too much food in his mouth to do anything else.

" _ If _ ," I repeat with emphasis, "we do, I'm probably going to be an arse about all this and deny everything. So I'm telling you now, I care about you, Simon Snow, and I mean every word and moment between us. And whatever happens, I just need you to know that."

Because I do need him to know that. Because even if this all falls apart he needs to know people care about him. That I care about him. That I never wanted to hurt him.

I withdraw in time to see his face crinkle into a frown for a moment before settling out into something softer as he finally manages to swallow his food.

"You planning on going somewhere?"

"No."

"Well then, don't worry about it," he tells me and it makes me want to scream. I should just tell him. My father would kill me but I should just tell Simon. "But for what it's worth, I care about you too. Which is why I'm going to start force feeding you pizza if you don't eat."

Despite myself a smile tugs at my lips.


	17. Chapter 17

**Simon**

Baz usually wakes up after me.

I used to be able to tell because his breathing would change, and he would start frowning a little. A year ago, I would have thought that just meant he was plotting first thing in the morning, now I just find it cute.

That's not really how I tell anymore though.

The first thing Baz does when he wakes up is place three kisses up my neck ending just under my ear. Exact same spots every time. It took me longer than I'd admit to realize he was kissing my moles.

It's probably for the best that he's the second one awake because I'm not really the easiest person to share a bed with. I have to go up and lay beside him because mostly when I wake up I'm curled up against his chest or laying sideways across his stomach. More than once I've woken up laying between his legs wrapped around one of them with my head resting on his abdomen. Those mornings are a little awkward, but Baz doesn't seem to mind so I don't make an effort to stop.

So usually I have to move.

I don't move too much though. Baz doesn't kiss me if I wake him up intentionally. Obviously or subtly (at least, I think it's subtle). Once I just kept shifting around and tossing and turning until he woke up. I did not get a kiss that morning. Instead, I got a very grumpy boyfriend who threatened to separate our beds.

He's the first to wake up this morning though, I know because I feel his lips against my neck, gently rousing me from sleep. A soft sigh escapes my lips and I let my eyes slowly open.

I'd almost forgotten how dark Baz keeps his room. Must be a vampire thing. The drapes are thick and drawn and that's probably the reason it takes me so long to wake up.

"Good morning," gets practically purred in my ear.

I'm already facing Baz. Last night I must've fallen asleep with my head against his shoulder and my legs wrapped around his middle. I can't actually feel the one that's under him and I doubt his back is fairing any better but he's not complaining.

I might complain just a little though. "Get off, you're crushing me, " I grumble though I keep a grip on his arm so he can't get away. I'm still dazed from sleep so it isn't a very strong one but it's as much as I can muster right now.

He does get off me shifting up and pushing my knee out from under him because I can't do that myself right now.

He sits up and I try to pull him back down to me but he doesn't budge.

"Get up, I told you we're going into town." He says it like he isn't the one who always struggles to get up in the morning.

I do manage to sit up but only so I can throw my weight on top of Baz and take him back down with me. I'm not sure if he lets me or I outmatch him, but he flops back down onto the pillows.

I smile down at him. He returns it but only with half his mouth, like he's trying to keep it away and force his eyebrow up instead. I always did like it when he did that, even if I sometimes hated that I liked it. So, I trace the arc of his brow with one finger.

"You have pretty eyes," I tell him, almost accidentally.

He laughs but I don't think it's directed at me, I just think he's amused. "I know."

His words compel me to add, "and no modesty." It only draws more of a smile to his lips though.

"Yours are very ordinary," he tells me in the dry, drone of his.

"Thank you." It's sarcastic but I'm not half as put out as I should be. It's hard to be upset when he's looking at me like  _ that _ . Like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. Which he has told me is true, at least twice though neither directly. I suppose I didn't really think about that too much till now.

"I like them."

"I couldn't tell," I say like we haven't just been staring at each other for the past minute.

He sits up again, dislodging me as he starts to get up. "Come on, while we have the daylight."

I consider making a vampire joke. I don't do it though. Baz isn't there yet I don't think. He's still so self-conscious about it, I hope one day that changes.

I roll out of bed and try to follow him but my still numb leg gives out underneath me which, if the ruckus laughter is anything to go by, amuses Baz greatly as he slips off to the bathroom.

I just drag myself back into his bed to wait out the inevitable pins and needles.

**Baz**

Usually, it's me who struggles to get up in the morning but Snow's dragging his feet.

I'm not sure if he hates shopping or if he just hates me buying him things, maybe a mixture of both. Still, I don't care, he needs a suit to wear to Christmas dinner, whether he wants to or not.

So, I deposit him at the tailors. He doesn't need me there. I doubt he wants me there and also, I told him I'd buy him a phone so I need to get that.

"Navy, please, " I tell the man and Snow looks annoyingly surprised to hear me say the word, please. Maybe I should be rude, maybe then the tailor would stick him with a pin. "Something off the rack that requires minimal alterations would be preferable and leave a little room in the stomach, he eats a lot."

"Hey," Snow snaps at me, blustering for a few moments because he obviously knows I'm right.

I just smirk at him, "It'll be fine, I'll be back soon."

"You're leaving?"

"Of course, " I say and without another word, I walk out the door.

A disgruntled, 'Baz," follows me and I can hear the tailor coaxing Snow into not chasing me down.

I do get him a phone. A nice one too and more than enough credit to call Bunce whenever he wants to even if he mostly uses my laptop to skype her or we could just drive over.

I can drive now (though Snow insists I can't  _ actually  _ drive. He can't drive at all so its moot). It's nice not having to wait for Vera to drop us around. And Snow is rather fond of leaving his hand on mine when I use the gear stick. He plays his music when we're in the car too. It's awful. He sings along. That's awful too.

I suppose we probably will be driving to Bunces a fair bit these holidays. I don't mind, we get along well enough. Better than well enough, even if neither of us will admit it. She's terrifyingly smart and an excellent person to debate.

Though I would prefer to have Simon at my side at all times, it  _ is  _ easier to shop without him running up to every window like an over-excited child.

I'm not sure what compels me, maybe Simon's absence or the fact that whenever he's not around I'm thinking about him and what he would do, but as I pass a bakery I stop.

They don't have sour cherry scones but they do have regular scones. I also know Simon isn't particularly invested in regular scones (or raisin ones). I do buy a few though, a couple raspberry, a chocolate one and some other assorted pastries the shop assistant recommended.

And back to Simon, I suppose.

I'm almost dreading it, seeing him again, possibly in a suit. I know I pushed for this but that view might just kill me.

But it's not really what I expected.

Grey, it's grey.

Granted he still looks stunning. He looks stunning in everything though.

I think the tailor notes my hesitance because he immediately throws Snow under the bus. "He insisted on grey."

"Of course, he did." I fix Snow with a questioning gaze as he finally looks up. I don't think he'd realised I'd walked in. "Thank you," I say to the tailor regardless, "how much do I owe you?"

"Just a minute and I'll get you the price," he says heading further back into the shop.

I put the bags down near the door and make my way over to Snow. Before I can even start to have at him for refusing to wear the colour I'd asked for (even if he is breathtaking), he's speaking.

"Do you like it?" he asks, mouth twitching up at the corner because he knows I do, even if it isn't what I'd requested.

I tell him so, "it's grey."

"Mmm," he hums to himself leaning towards me a little, "so we match."

What?

There's a warm hand on my cheek and I lean into it as Snow runs his thumb along my cheekbone.

Oh.

I nearly melt at his words and his touch only make it that much harder to stay standing.

"Shall  _ I  _ get one in blue then?" I tease because I'm not sure what else to do.

He shrugs. "Up to you."

I think I could stay here forever but then the tailor is clearing his throat and I'm beckoned back to reality. Or the part of my reality that doesn't centre around Snow (at least externally).

Right. Payment.

* * *

Christmas goes off without a hitch. Snow was, of course, an absolute travesty all through dinner and everything else but my family is used to his particular brand of unsophistication.

I had already called my father to inform him of the progression of mine and Snow's relationship and he was less than impressed. I think perhaps it was a different thing entirely having to sit down with us at dinner. Less easy to ignore that way. Not that Simon is particularly touchy, at least not in front of other people.

Still, I get called into my father's study for a 'talk' a couple of days later. I'm not sure if I despise it or if I don't care enough to.

He's sitting at his desk, fingers steepled like a movie villain. Lovely. This is going to be fun.

"Basilton, this was not the plan," he tells me like somehow, I intended on this happening. I didn't do anything to put this in motion, I just kind of let it happen because I couldn't stop it. Because I didn't  _ want  _ to stop it.

He doesn't continue talking, obviously expecting a round of apologies or something equally unlikely. I just raise an eyebrow at him.

It doesn't please him but right now I'm not sure I want him to be pleased.

I knew he wouldn't approve. Even last summer when Snow and I  _ weren't  _ together I still took care around my father, to not be touching Snow or looking at him too much. Crowley, I was half sure he'd seen me and Snow holding hands when the Mage came for Simon. I thought he might let the Mage take him if he saw. It would still work. Let the Mage put Simon somewhere horrible and make us seem all the much better in comparison. I don't think he did see, though.

There's no home for Simon to get thrown into these holidays, no Mage to take him away from me.

But what about next summer?

What about after Watford?

"Explain yourself," Father says slowly, dragging the words out and glaring daggers at me but with the most bored expression, he can manage.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. It's a ghastly habit I've picked up from Snow. I hope father hasn't noticed. "He made a move on me, not the other way around."

"You could have turned him down."

I want to scream because Crowley I've wanted Snow for  _ years _ . Because he is all I want and the thought of turning him down is laughable. Because I'm hopelessly in love with him. I don't do any of that though, instead, I keep my face a mask of calm and say, "and then what? We just abandon the plan altogether? He wouldn't have stayed with me otherwise, we would have gone back to being distant." We wouldn't have. Snow isn't like that. My father doesn't know that though. "He's the Chosen One, he doesn't handle rejection well."

My father just eyes me, staring me down like he's waiting for a further explanation, a better explanation.

"Besides, it's easier to turn him against the Mage this way."

**Simon**

What?

It's not that I meant to eavesdrop. I'm not holding a glass to the wall or pressed up against the door or anything. It's just like the day I heard Baz talking with Niall. I just wanted to hear and so I did. Though I suppose all that was just another plot.

I won’t cry. I won’t let myself cry. Not again. Not because of fucking Baz.

I was just worried about him. Worried his father was going to chew him out about dating me. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.

That was a mistake.

Or it wasn't.

Everything except that was a mistake, especially trusting Baz Pitch.

His father's voice comes again, even though I'm two rooms over in the library. "So, you're telling me you have no interest in Snow at all?"

I should stop listening. I want to stop listening. I can't help but place the last of my hope on Baz's answer to that question. Because I do care about him. And I  _ thought _ he cared about me.

I want him to care about me. Even after this. If he just says he cares I'll talk to him and let him explain and maybe we can fix this because honestly, my time with Baz has been some of the best of my life.

"Father, just because I'm gay does not mean I'm interested in every male I meet." Baz is calm as always. I hate him for it. Now more than ever.

We date for  _ months _ and it doesn't mean a thing. He dismisses me like some fling.

He's only been using me.

"Answer the question Basilton," his father's voice comes again and that sliver of hope returns, "are you interested in Snow?"

The word is harsh and cold when it comes and it tears me apart.

"No."

Idiot. I’m such an idiot.

Why did I ever think Baz had stopped plotting against me?

Why did I think he would care about me?

Why would I think  _ anyone  _ would care about me?

My parents didn’t. The Mage doesn’t. Agatha doesn’t. So why would Baz?

I think perhaps that calms Malcolm some because he says, "what's our next move then?"

I can't do this anymore. I don't want to hear this anymore. My magic retreats without even willing it to.

I drag myself out of the plush armchair.

I'm not going to go off. I'm not sure I could take holding my magic back right now because I can barely manage that with my tears.

I catch Vera in the kitchen and get her to call me a cab. She offers to drive me wherever I need to go (me and Baz of course). I just shake my head. I don't trust myself to speak, not with the lump in my throat.

I just thank her and begin the trek up the road to meet the cab.

 

**Baz**

Snow isn't in my room when I finish talking with my father, nor is he in the library or outside playing soccer with Mordelia.

Generally, I'd leave Snow to his own devices and let him come to find me in my room later when he wants to but right now, after talking with my father, I really need to see him. To remind myself that whatever my father thinks, this is real and happening and I finally have everything I've always wanted.

"Have you seen Simon?" I ask Vera when I check to make sure he isn't helping her cook. He does that sometimes. I'm not sure if I think that's cute or if it makes me worry about the toxicity of my food.

She frowns a moment, "he didn't tell you? He left about an hour ago, said he needed to go home."

I frown back at her. Home? "Did he say why?"

She gives me a small smile and shakes her head, "No, poor thing was on the verge of tears though, wouldn't let me drive him, just asked me to call him a cab and trekked through the snow up to the road."

"He was crying?"

"He was making a valiant effort not to."

It takes a moment for me to connect the pieces in my head. But when I do my world shatters.

Shit.

"Thank you, Vera, I've got to go."

She says something after me but I'm already rushing away to get to the car.

Crowley, I've fucked up.

How do I even begin to fix this?

I should have told him the moment anything happened between us.

I know where he went.  _ Home _ . He means Watford, not to Bunces which would have been the sensible choice.

It's a long drive. One that's usually nice but right now just lets me relive every opportunity I had to tell him and every moment between us that made me unbearably happy.

And how I've just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.

How I might've ruined the best person I'd ever met.

When I finally,  _ finally,  _ make it to Watford and I all but sprint back to our room, taking the stairs two at a time.

I push open the door, wondering momentarily if I should have knocked but knocking on the door to your own room seems stupid. Not knocking seems even stupider when you've just hurt your boyfriend who is the most powerful mage in existence.

He  _ is _ here.

I'd almost begun to fear he wasn't, there was no magic leaking out everywhere, nothing to suggest he was about to go off.

I don't think he's angry though, just hurt. Somehow that makes it worse.

He's curled up around one his pillows sobbing gently into it. Our beds are still pushed together but he's entirely on his for once and there's a gap at the end where it looks like make he's tried to kick them apart, I don't blame him.

"Simon," I start but for once I don't know how to continue. How do you help someone when you're the one who's hurt them?

He looks up at me and his eyes are rimmed a deep red. He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve before shoving his face back into the pillow. "Leave me alone."

"Simon, I'm sorry."

And I am. I never should have agreed to this, to any of it.

"Stop it." His words come out as a sob and there is nothing in this world I want more than to take him in my arms and fix everything. "I don't believe you."

And why would he?

How could he ever trust me again?

But I need to try.

"Everything I said to my father was a lie, I care about you."

He shakes his head and I try to gather my thoughts into something coherent, something other than guilt and sadness and the fear of loneliness. He beats me though.

"Please," it sounds broken and horrible. Simon Snow is pleading with me for the first time since I met him. "Please just go. You're just making it worse."

And I don't want to make it worse.

I just want him to be happy.

"Do you still have your phone?"

He looks up again, still not quite mad but confused and pained. "Really? That's what you care about."

I don't know how to play this game. So, I just push. "Do you have it, Snow?"

"No," he says through gritted teeth, trying to hold back his sobs and just ending up sucking in gasps of air.

I pull mine out of my pocket and put it on the desk, slipping fifty quid under it in case he needs another cab. "You know my passcode, call Bunce."

And then I just leave.

Because he doesn't want me there.

Because I'm only making things worse.

Because I've just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.

I leave the boy I love alone and crying in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is going to get worse before it gets better but I promise it will get better! I'm not gonna give yall an unhappy ending, no matter how bleak things seem to be getting, so bear with me :)

**Penny**

I've never seen Simon this bad before. At least, not because of a breakup. His breakups with Agatha never affected him this much. I've never been more sure that he and Agatha weren't meant for each other. And that makes me worry that he and Baz  _ are _ . Which is a shame because the next time I see Baz I'm going to put the worst curse I can manage on him.

Maybe.

I want to.

But maybe I shouldn't.

I don't usually answer calls from numbers I don't know. If I don't have their number saved in my phone I probably don't care enough to talk to them. Or they're telemarketers. Either way, horrible. But when I got eight missed calls in under an hour I did pick up eventually.

He didn't even give me a hello, just a, "Bunce, is Snow with you?"

"No, I thought he was with you."

"No, I-," he'd stopped and it made me worried, more worried than the premise that Simon had wandered off because Simon can take care of himself. "No. I need you to call him but on my number."

"Baz, why?"

"I fucked up and he needs you." That had only made me more concerned. Baz Pitch admitting to a mistake? I didn't think I'd ever see the day. "I'll explain later if you want. But right now, I just really need you to call him, please."

_ Please? _

I'd hung up immediately and called Simon (or Baz's number but to talk to Simon). He was crying and blubbering about Baz plotting and lying and said something about Baz never wanting him. Using him.

Merlin, when I get my hands on Baz he's going to be feeling things a lot worse than just guilt.

Except he called me to tell me about Simon. And I doubt even he could fake the way he looks at Simon when Simon isn't watching.

But maybe I was wrong and maybe this  _ was  _ all a plot. I don't know anymore.

I just know Simon is curled up in the back seat of Agatha's car, staring out the window and he's barely moved an inch in the past forty minutes. I'd think he'd died if he wasn't still breathing. 

I did get the whole story even if it took Simon far longer than usual to tell it. He'd insisted he didn't want me to come to get him but I'd rather have given him over to the goblins than leave him there in that state, at least then he'd have a fighting chance.

I hadn't talked to Agatha yet. Not about everything. I'd not had the chance to give her a proper chewing out and maybe I never will now.

Mum said she had to go to work and couldn't go with me to get Simon and Dad's off looking at dead spots down in Wales. So, I called Agatha. Because there's nothing like asking your hesitant friend to drive hours on end to pick up her ex-boyfriend after he's had a falling out with  _ his _ boyfriend.

We got there though. I told her she owed him, for what she tried to do over the summer. She was adamant she'd done nothing wrong but even Agatha wouldn't really believe that.

"You just think Simon's fine with it because he doesn't want to start something, you hurt him, Aggie. And now Baz has hurt him. So, if you want to fix it I need you to help me go get him." I had laid it on quite thick. It was true though, Agatha  _ had  _ hurt Simon. Now I wonder if maybe that was just part of Baz's plan all along.

"It's only four days, I can't see why we shouldn't just let him stay there," she'd said and I had to put the phone down for a minute before I could face her again. The audacity.

"Because he's upset Agatha and he shouldn't be alone, besides, what's he going to eat?"

"I'm sure he could get some food from the kitchen."

"Agatha," I'd basically snapped at her, "help me get Simon if you feel even the slightest bit of guilt about what happened over the summer."

She'd sighed and for a moment I thought she was going to say no and hang up. "Fine, but I'm picking you up first, the car ride's going to be terribly uncomfortable without you."

Unfortunately, the car ride is terribly uncomfortable even with me.

Agatha has her arm resting on the window and her fingers pressed to her temple, every few minutes she lets out a sigh. She doesn't want to be here. I don't care. She owes Simon this and it's the price she has to pay to avoid my wrath.  Most of which, admittedly, is now going towards planning Baz's demise.

I'd tried to coax Simon out of his room with a big mac and a telling him that I wasn't leaving until he was. Eventually, he succeeded when Agatha started saying she was going to leave us both here if we didn't get in the car.

He's a mess.

He's stopped crying now at least or stopped being loud about it. I still see the occasional tear slide down his cheek and it breaks my heart. Really, I thought things were looking up for Simon, he was in a relationship with someone he cared about, he didn't have to go back to the Normals for summer, the Mage started putting him in fewer life-threatening situations.

But it was all part of one of Baz's plots.

Merlin why didn't I listen to Simon more when he said Baz was plotting.

Except for this time, I almost wish it had worked. Because Simon seemed happier. And things were better for him. And whether he believes it or not, I do think Baz cared about him.

But then I hate myself for wishing that on Simon. For Simon. Because he deserves more than that, better than that.

Merlin, I'm going to kill Baz Pitch.

**Simon**

I spent the last few days of winter break in a bit of a state.

I stopped crying long before we got to Penny's but I could tell she was still worried. I'd been keeping to myself a lot which I think Penny's mum prefers.

But I have to go back to Watford eventually. It's one thing to be there and wait for Baz to come back and ruin my life even more. It's another entirely to have to go back and know he'll be waiting. Or if he's not waiting he'll be there soon.

I'm not sure I know how to face him at this point. What do I even do? Yelling at him never works. The anathema won’t let me punch him.  I might just start crying. And then he'd mock me.

Maybe.

Last time he didn't, but last time he might still have been holding out hope for his plot.

I don't know what to expect, from him or myself, as I ascend the stairs back to our room.

I take a long deep breath, my fingers tracing the hardwood of the door as I try to make myself push it open.

I brace myself. Shoulders back and chin up and ready for a fight. Because everything between me and Baz is a fight. I thought maybe we were done fighting but it was just a new kind of fight, one I didn't know how to defend myself in. One I didn't even know was happening.

It takes me a moment to realise I've just been standing there with my hand on the door. Not until a voice sounds behind me.

"Come on, Snow, you don't even need to cast a spell to open it after winter break."

I swivel around so fast I lose my footing and stumble forward into the person I really didn't want to see, let alone fall on top of.

Baz catches my forearms and rights me before I can go tumbling down the stairs. He lets go of me immediately yanking his hands back to him, going as far as to shove them in his pockets. 

Again? Fucking again?

I'd have preferred to have been thrown down the stairs than to have Baz catch me right about now because his touch still grounds me. Because I crave it.  _ Need  _ it. And it also burns, pierces through my skin and sends a shock right through my rib cage.

I open my mouth to say...something. I'm not sure what. Not thank you. Maybe fuck you. Instead, it's just, "you," and it comes as a strangled sort of grunt.

Baz's expression falters a moment, his eyes looking sadder than usual. "Simon, I'm sorry."

He sounds so sincere. So genuinely, painfully, sorry that I almost believe him.

Almost.

But I won’t be duped again.

"Bullshit," I growl, shoving him up against the wall with my forearm. Because the Anathema can't stop me here.

I want him to look scared or break this facade of his and start laughing at me. He doesn't though, he just flinches. He doesn't even look hurt. He just watches me with a furrow between his brows. The same look he used to give me when I was about to go off. When he used to sit me down and stroke my hair until I calmed down.

He's worried.

But I know it's fake now and it makes me hate him more.

So, I just push myself off him. Because I can't stand to look at him. And because I want to look at him. And because I can't have both at the same time.

I rush back down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Getting away from Baz.

Getting away while I still bring myself to walk away.

**Baz**

I'm past the point of apologising or explaining. Not because I'm not sorry or because I don't want to make him understand what I did.  But because he won’t listen and I don't deserve to be listened to.

Days become weeks, weeks become months. Simon and I are still as frosty as ever. We're  _ worse  _ than ever. Even when we were mortal enemies. Because now there's something to miss, something to look back on and remember.

The feeling of his skin underneath my fingertips, the sound of his voice murmuring in my ear, the feeling of his lips against mine.

That longing is stronger now that I know what it is I crave. Not just the thought of Simon Snow, of what we could be but what we actually were.

Before I ruined it like I ruin everything.

Like I'm worried I've ruined  _ him _ .

He's not been the same since everything. Not that he would be. Living together doesn't exactly provide us with a lot of space to get over each other. Not that there's any amount of space or time that would help me get over Simon Snow. But I wish he could get over me. I wish he didn't have to.

We're rarely alone together anymore unless we're sleeping. He's barely said a word to me. Even fewer words than he used to anyway.

I'm coming back from hunting one night when I hear voices from our room. At first, I think Snow has Bunce over but the voice is male and makes my blood boil before I even realise who it is. It's not a hard solve after that.

I consider turning around and leaving. After what happened between me and Snow, the only thing I can imagine being worse than us being alone together is being alone with the Mage.

I'm about to retreat when I hear Simon's voice, "please sir, don't do this." The smell of burnt wood drifts out towards me from our room and I can all but taste the cinders on my tongue.

I'm up the stairs in an instant, barging in with as much speed and nonchalance as I can manage.

They both turn to look at me. The Mage narrowing his eyes and Snow's magic only getting more powerful.

"What, am I interrupting something?" I ask, knowing full well I am as I make my way over to my desk and start unpacking my things.

Snow says, "No," in the same moment that the Mage says, "yes."

I raise an eyebrow, looking pointedly between the two of them.

The Mage turns to Snow, "Simon, I know you two are... fraternising," he says it's like it's a dirty word but I know it's me he sees as the problem. If I didn't hate him I might concur, "but this conversation does not concern Mr Pitch."

He doesn't know we ended things.

Simon opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off.

"Oh, I'm very concerned now that you're saying that." I fold my arms across my chest and shoot Snow a look I hope he interprets as  _ shut up and let me help _ , "the last time you wanted to talk to Simon alone it was so you could take him to a boys home."

Simon stares down at his feet from where he's perched on the end of the bed, hands grabbing fistfuls of his blanket. I don't think he likes this. I can feel his magic though and I can smell its stench in the air. He's scared. And I want to help. And I think he's going to let me help.

"I'm not taking him to a boys home," the Mage pushes back, glaring at me.

Interesting choice of words.

"Where are you taking him then?" I ask, meeting his stare.

"Nowhere," Simon cuts in, "I'm not going anywhere, please sir."

The Mage pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Simon, Watford isn't safe, the Coven thinks it’s best to keep you elsewhere-."

"Oh good, I'm glad they're seeing sense for once," I smirk as I begin to see a plan forming in my mind.

Snow's head snaps up at my words, betrayal etched across his face, an expression I'm ashamed to say I know far too well on him. "Baz-" he goes to snap, but he doesn't know what to say so he stops. It doesn't matter, I was going to cut him off anyway.

"No, I think it's a brilliant idea. You obviously struggle here. You could go stay at the manor and revise with Mordelia's tutor, that woman works wonders."

And just like that Simon's magic starts retreating a little, his eyebrows pull together in the middle and he eyes me wearily. I just need him to stay quiet. I can fix this if he'll just let me.

"No, no, not Pitch Manor," the Mage spits. Again. Why so much spitting. Is that his secret to powerful magic; spit your words instead of speaking them? "Somewhere private, as dictated by the Coven. Somewhere safe from the Humdrum."

"Snow was with me all Summer and we didn't have  _ any _ issues with the Humdrum. Besides we have some of the best tutors around and Snow is already well acquainted with my family." I press on, not trying to appeal to the Mage, trying to appeal to Simon. Because even if Snow doesn't understand politics the Mage  _ does  _ and if I keep offering Snow better options the Mage knows he'll keep losing.

I just hope Snow's hatred of me doesn't ruin this.

"Mr Pitch, absolutely not," the Mage tries to interject. Re-affixing his gaze to me.

It's too late though. I can feel Snow's magic calming a little. Whether that's because I'm making him feel better or just making him feel sad, it doesn't matter, as long as the Mage doesn't notice.

"I could come down on weekends and we could spend more time together, that way you could keep up on your class wo-"

"Enough!" The Mage rounds on me. "Simon will go where the Coven decides not where you dictate, Mr Pitch."

I furrow my brow and go as far as to take a step towards the Mage, "I thought you wanted to keep him safe, I'm offering somewhere safe where Simon can learn and be happy and won’t be alone. What alternative is better?  _ Sir _ ." I sneer the word, cold and mocking. I'm sure it's not the best idea to antagonise my own headmaster but at least if I get expelled Fiona will probably high-five me for doing it this way.

"One that hasn't been tarnished by your family."

Simon looks up eventually, choosing that moment to find his words, which I am grateful for because I was running out of my own. "Sir, if I just need to leave Watford, I think Hampshire would be the best place, I'd prefer to go there."

Snow can't lie so I know he's being honest. I just wish it was me he missed there. I know he likes Mordelia, Vera, Daphne and even my younger half-siblings. At least there's that. At least there's enough to give a convincing performance.

I think the Mage knows defeat when he sees it because he sighs again and sends me another glare. I bask in it. "The Coven and I will discuss this further Simon, try to stay out of trouble."

And with that, he just leaves. Turns and takes his stupid Robin Hood get up and dumb sword and walks out.

I know he'll be back. He's not done. And it'll be so much easier for him to claw Simon from my grasp now but I can at least put up a fight. Not for me but enough to give Snow better options. Better than the shit the Mage puts him through.

"Why?"

I divert my gaze from the door back to Snow, he's staring at me now, frowning again, looking hurt again.

And what do I say? That I want to make things better? That I want him to be happy? That I truly don't like the way the Mage treats him and that he deserves so, so much better?

Do I tell him it's because I'm in love with him?

I don't.

I just shrug, a ghastly habit I picked up from Snow. "Because I'm sorry."

He just huffs, exasperated. Not the response he'd wanted but probably one he's expected.

So, I leave it. I just gather up my pyjamas and go to bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter but I hope yall enjoy it nonetheless :)   
> Also I forgot to not this down last chapter but I broke 50k! Which makes this my longest fic so yayyy!

**Simon**

_ Maybe the Mage was right. _

It's all I can think as I stick my sword into the head of the nearest golem, watching it crumble back into dust and rocks before me.

_ Maybe I do need to leave. _

I arc my sword up slicing another clean in half.

_ Maybe I'm only making things worse. _

I hear a twig snap behind and me and whirl around, sword up to see Penny watching me with one raised eyebrow. "Steady Simon, they're all dead."

And she's right, I look around and there's nothing but a pile of rocks. No signs of movement.

I half wish she weren't right because I really want to jam my sword in something right now.

I didn't need to go off to finish this fight. I still might anyway. I can feel it, simmering under the surface, so much magic. But the danger is gone so I try to quell it, try to push it away. It's not working though.

"Calm down, Simon," Penny’s words feel more like chastisement than a comfort, even if I know she doesn't mean it as such.

I bite the inside of my lip but it doesn't hurt half as much as the sparks jumping off my skin.

"I- I," I stammer for a moment, trying and failing to calm my panic and suppress my magic. "I'm just going to go lay down, I think."

"Simon-" Penny starts but I'm already practically running away.

I just need to think, I think.

Or maybe not think.

But I don't want to talk and Penny will want to talk.

I'm surprised the stairs don't give way under me with how ferociously I stomp up them. I'm more surprised they don't catch fire with the sparks coming off me.

_ I should leave. Everyone would be safer. _

It takes me several moments to realise I'm not alone.

Baz looks up from where he's reading on his bed.

I ignore him and throw my body down on my own. Maybe if I count all the planks in the ceiling I'll be able to calm down. I used to count them a lot back when me and Baz were enemies, so I could fall asleep despite the fear that he'd sink his teeth into my neck at any moment. I've been doing it again since we broke up. Still does nothing.

I'm distracted, when I get to eleven out of three hundred and fourteen, by the sound of a book snapping shut and the creaking of Baz's bed.

I can feel my magic flare to life with a new intensity under my skin like water being poured into hot oil, splashing and burning every inch of me.

"It's all right, I'm going." He says and I can see him holding his hands up in my periphery, even if I refuse to look at him.

But my magic only rises further, trying to claw its way out from under my skin. I curse myself for it but I say, "don't."

And he stops.

I didn't really think he'd stop but he does.

I hear him sigh and I'm not sure if it's relief or exasperation. Maybe it's both. Whatever it is I don't read into it because I'm sure it's just as staged as everything else he does.

I feel the bed dent beside me but don't feel his touch. Despite the small space he's still trying not to touch me. I don't pretend to understand Baz's mind games.

I don't even understand my own mind right now.

I wish things were the way they used to be. When I'd get worked up and be about to go off and I'd just let myself fall into Baz's lap. He'd stroke my hair and tell me it was okay and that nothing was going to hurt me. Or that I wasn't going to hurt anybody else. The latter came up more often than I'd like to admit.

It's one of those times again.

Still, I don't want to because I hate him and he lied to me and it feels like even the slightest content would set me on fire. In good ways and bad ones.

That's the worst part of all this. I still  _ miss  _ him. Even months on, I still fucking miss him.

It almost makes me wish I was angry, that I'd get worked up and go off. I think I'd prefer to go off every time I see him than having that clenching in my chest and a lump in my throat and the overwhelming desire to take back what I should never have even though I know he'll only hurt me again.

"Do you want me to take it?" Baz asks quietly from beside me.

I fix him with a glare. Maybe I should say yes. Just so I have an excuse to hold his hand. I don't want to give myself that excuse though. He doesn't deserve to know how much I miss him. I've seen that smug satisfaction painted across his face too many times to count before all this. I haven't since I found out about everything. Maybe that means I'm hiding it well, how much he hurt me. Maybe he's disappointed the sight of his face doesn't rile me up.

"No," I snap at him, he doesn't look surprised, "you'd only turn it against me and use my own magic to end me."

The spot between his brows crinkles. An expression that used to make me worried. It  _ still  _ makes me worried, even if I don't want to admit to it.

"Simon-"

"No."

My name catches me off guard, it's mostly reverted back to Snow now that we're not dating, it hits a little too close to home.

He sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anathema, Snow."

I don't move I just glare at him like maybe the sheer intensity of my gaze can rewind time between us.

"What can I do?" he asks slowly, watching me with caution like I'm an animal that might attack. Which right now I suppose is an apt metaphor.

Or maybe not, because the magic sizzling away under my flesh is calming. I'm not sure if I'm calm exactly. I think maybe I'm just upset in a different way. Panic and anger, those are the emotions that draw my magic up. Sadness and longing, not so much.

I wish it were anger. It would be so much easier if I could just go back to hating him. I think I just hate myself though, for being fooled into thinking he cared.

A cool hand tentatively presses to my forehead, sweeping my damp curls back out of my face. I should shove him away but I don't.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

I say nothing.

He doesn't sigh this time. He just leaves his hand against my forehead. It helps. I'm burning up and I think he knows.

I let my eyes close and listen to the sound of him breathing, trying to mimic it, like he used to make me when I got like this. Trying to calm me down.

It works.

Little by little I feel my magic retreat.

Baz doesn't move an inch. I'm grateful for that and it makes me think he was right all those times he called me a fool.

**Baz**

It's closer than we've been in months. The first time I've touched him since things fell apart between us, since I ruined them.

So, I stay and keep watch over him. Because I want to. Because I think maybe he wants me too as well.

"Why?" His voice breaks me from my thoughts. Usually, I wouldn't mind that but being pulled back into a grim reality where Simon Snow isn't mine and will never want to be again is more than a little jarring.

I lower my gaze to see those ordinary blue eyes staring back up at me. They'd been closed for so long I'd almost thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Because you told me it hurts when you go off."  _ Because I've caused you enough hurt, Love. _

He shakes his head and I'm forced to retract my hand. "No, why did you..."

I clasp my hands together, letting some of the warmth he's left behind try to warm up the rest of me.

It doesn't take much for me to realise what he's asking about. I've been asking myself the same question for months.

_ Because I wanted to be close to you. _

_ Because I didn't want to fight you. _

_ Because I care about you _ .

All of those seem secondary to what the real answer is.

"Because I was told to."

Excuses and apologies won’t fix things now. He can't trust me and I don't blame him. He doesn't believe anything I say or do anymore.

I've tried to fix things, kind of. Small gestures, finishing his homework if he falls asleep without having it done the next day, letting him sleep with the window open, leaving my laptop out for him to use when he wants to (even if he doesn’t).

I know it won’t change things between us, it won’t make up for what I've done. But I want to make things easier for him, better for him. I want to ease his suffering any way I can.

Crowley, I would not come back to Watford for our final year if I didn't think it would be yet another disappointment to my mother.

I don't want us to get back together.

I just want him to get better.

To fix what I've broken.

He's frowning at me again but after a moment he nods. "Sounds about right."

"I meant it, though," I tell him because I want to. Because I should.

"Meant what?"

"All of it. Everything that happened between us."

He stares at me for a few moments like if he looks hard enough he'll be able to discern the truth. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I don't believe you."

"I know."

He sits up but he doesn't shove me away. It almost gives me hope but I'm far too cynical for that.

"Simon-," I try again but it's like I've flipped a switch in him.

"Don't you have some students to drain?"

I raise an eyebrow at him because I'm not really sure what else to do. He's not gone for this hit yet. He's not gone for any yet. He's just avoided me not lashed out.

I hadn't thought about this particular repercussion of things. That I'd  _ told  _ Simon I was a vampire, actually confirmed years of suspicion. I had to, to get him to trust me. I hadn't thought that he'd actually try to use it against me. That maybe he'd take it to the Mage. I know Snow's always lost his argument on the 'has he told you?' question because Snow can't lie. But now I  _ have  _ told him and it might just be the end of me.

I'd always just assumed that once Snow realised I fed on rats and deer that maybe he'd just keep it to himself. He's not vindictive or vengeful or spiteful. And if I'm not a danger I don't see why he'd say anything. But maybe I was wrong about exactly how much I'd hurt him.

"You know I don't..." I'm not sure how to finish that. Bite people? Feed on humans? Snack on the student body?

"Do I? I'm not sure what I know about you anymore."

I give that look I always do when he's being dumb but it's quickly losing any hint of softness. "Has anyone disappeared Snow?"

"Phillipa," he offers up immediately.

He's right of course, at least I didn't incriminate myself with that one. "Not from vampirism because she lost her voice."

"Because you  _ stole  _ it."

I feel the guilt deep in my stomach. And anger, at him, despite myself. And at myself for telling him anything. "You can't just steal a person’s voice, Snow. I should never have let you watch  _ the Little Mermaid _ ."

I can feel his magic rise again. Maybe this is for the best. Let him hate me. I thought this was what I wanted, for everything to go back to normal. It still hurts. But hopefully, it hurts him a little less if he despises me.

"I know you stole it and ruined her life because you're an evil, plotting, vampire and all you ever do is hurt, people."

Rationally I know I deserve this. That I've hurt him and I should let him hurt me. But nothing about my relationship with Snow has ever been rational.

I consider it, yelling back, making a list of all the things he is, pathetic, unloved, orphan who can't control his magic. But I know I shouldn't, so I don't. And he isn't pathetic or unloved. He's just hurt and betrayed.

I don't say a word, it's not corporeal smoke that erupts from him, just the smell of it, but it still feels like it'll burn my throat if I open my mouth.

So I stand with as much grace as I can muster, and once again I walk out, leaving an upset Simon Snow in my wake. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Baz**

Simon has moved from devastated to enraged. I feel his magic spike whenever I enter a room, just like it used to.

For once I'm glad to be leaving for the holidays. Sort of.

The Bunces don’t need another child and the Wellbeloves wouldn't do anything to upset the Mage, so I suppose Snow is going back into care for the Summer. He comes out of the bathroom on one of the last days of school with his hair shaved off and glowering at me like he's daring me to say something.

I wish I could bring him home. Give him a roof over his head and proper food and a room to himself where there's no one around that might hurt him.

For every ounce Snow's gotten more aggressive, I've dissolved into simple apathy, or at least the appearance of it. I've not taken digs at him in class or plotted his demise or even thrown a sarcastic remark across our room unprovoked.

It used to feel like if I so much as did anything to Simon he might burst into tears. Now it's more like he'll go off. Like living with a fucking bomb.

But I care about him and I don't want him to suffer, so I speak first for once. "Snow, if you don't want to go into care for the Summer you are welcome to stay with my family."

"Why so you can off me without the Anathema getting in the way."

I purse my lips and stare him down. I've been distant, not meek. "No, so you don't have to suffer through another summer there. You wouldn't have to see me or my father and my siblings and stepmother have done nothing to wrong you." I say it like I'm discussing the weather. Like I wouldn't give anything just to have him stay, not even so I could see him, just so I'd know he's safe and happy and  _ fed _ .

He told me last summer what it's like for him there. He'd never talk about it before, said he didn't want to think about things like that. But it was horrible. He's avoided by everyone and barely gets anything to eat and has nothing to do all day.

"Thanks, but I'd rather go into care." He looks like he means it too, as he zips up his duffle bag as viciously as he can manage, which isn't half as intimidating as he thinks it is.

I could push it. Keep him safe make him happy. But the never-ending rule of Simon Snow is that the more I push the harder he resists.

So, I say nothing and hope to magick that he'll be okay.

**Simon**

The Mage picks me up a few weeks into Summer and I'm more grateful than ever to him because the food is particularly sparse at the one I have this time.

It almost makes me wish I'd agreed to go with Baz. Almost.

It almost makes me think Baz was right about the Mage not treating me properly, even if he was only trying to use me. That one gets much closer to becoming reality with every passing day.

I just have too much time to think. No matter how hard I try not to.

I think maybe I'll ask to stay with the Mage or his men for the rest of the holidays, I'll tell him I'll help out. He was going to let me stay at Christmas, so why not now?

_ Because you're not going to Hampshire _ . A voice in my mind that doesn't so much sound like Baz as simply  _ is  _ Baz at this point.

He doesn't speak to me as he signs me out. I'm not sure if he's said something to the people there or if he's simply used magic to trick the Normals into letting me go. He's outlawed that kind of magic but I still can't help but wonder.

"Where are we going, Sir?" I ask during the cab ride over. The Mage doesn't drive I don't think.

He just shakes his head and keeps staring out the window. "You'll see soon enough."

That's odd. He'll usually tell me what I'm fighting before we get there. Brief me so I have time to prepare a battle strategy of some kind.

Maybe he is taking me to stay with him and his men.

No such luck.

I recognise it when we pull up. The club. Baz has taken me here more times than I count by this point.

"Sir?" I'm hesitant. Concerned. Have the Mages here been attacked?

He just shushes me and gets out, paying the driver.

So, I suppose this  _ is  _ our stop. I clamber out of the car and rush after the Mage who's already making his way towards the entrance.

A group in the uniforms of the Mage's men (all of whom  _ are  _ men, as Penny likes to point out) straighten up and make to follow him too.

There must be at least twenty of them. What's happened? Another chimera maybe? I start listing off dangerous magickal creatures and their weaknesses.

We get inside though and everything's fine. Well, mostly fine. The receptionist tries to stop us from passing and a hush falls over the room as the Mage strides on past.

His men are basically marching in rank and file after him. I'm more scrambling along after trying to figure out what in the world is happening.

He storms through the halls and slams open a door off to the side that I've never been to before (though there are a lot of rooms here I haven't been in). What must be about fifteen magicians look up and stop talking.

All with eyes narrowed but not so much as jumping at the sudden intrusion. I recognise most of them. The Old Families. Baz introduced me to most of them.

Some gazes flicker over to me. Some cautious, others betrayed. Like  _ I  _ was the one who did the betraying.

So that's why he came to get me. So, he can intimidate them.

One stands and speaks, "What Davy, aren't we even allowed to have lunch anymore without you barging in?" Malcolm Grimm. Baz's father.

It reminds me of when he defended me from the Mage. I don't want to think about that so I force it down.

He doesn't look at me now. I look at him though, then the person sat by his side. I suppose Baz finally got the seat in these meetings that he always wanted then.

Baz, unlike his father,  _ is  _ looking at me. He's one of the concerned ones. Though he seems less concerned about my presence threatening him and more just concerned about me. His eyes rake over my form, what he sees only deepens his frown.

"This isn't lunch, it's consorting and you're all to be searched and question."

I hear mixed cries of outrage and rejection from the people at the table. I'm not sure what comes from who because their faces are still as bored as ever.

Baz doesn't say anything. I know because I'm still looking at him and his eyes are still locked with mine.

I'm not even sure which side fires the first spell. Several are exchanged before one hits us, slamming us all backwards and out the door as the Old Families start to scatter, through doors or concealment spells, I think I see one woman climb out a window.

I'm still watching Baz though. So, I see where he goes and tear off after him the moment I regain my footing.

"Simon," the Mage yells after me, I just ignore him. I think he wants me to kill these people or use my magic to hurt them. They're not magickal creatures though. They're just people. I can't do that.

Baz isn't a person though. And we're long past the point of hurting each other with magic.

It doesn't take long for me to catch up. He was waiting I think. Trying to get me away from everyone else. I'm not sure if it was to keep them safe or because he thinks he can take me if I'm alone.

"I suppose it was always going to come to this, I just thought it would be after Watford." He doesn't sound like someone who's about to kill me or someone who knows they're about to die. He just sounds bored. Why does he always sound so bored?

I call the sword of mages to me and I see his eyes flicker towards it. I don't tell him that I didn't want this to happen at all, even before everything happened between us. Even now I'm not sure. I don't think I'll get a choice, though.

"My only regret is there isn't an audience." He raises his wand, " **Stand your ground.** "

I dive out of the way of the spell. It's easy enough because I'm ready for it. Just like I'm ready for his, " **Back off** " and " **We all fall down** " and " **It's over** ". I'm not even sure what that last one does.

I'm approaching though and quickly. Baz has never been one to run when he sees me coming though, so he stays put as I advance, sword drawn, ready to run him through.

He only gets halfway through another spell because my sword arcs down beside him as he dodges out of the way. He jumps back as I swipe across his stomach missing by little but an inch.

He's casting more spells I've never even heard of and don't know what they do. But I dodge all of them, not wanting to find out what he's dug up from the dark books in his family's library.

My magic is back, roaring to life in me and outside of me. I might actually be able to cast something if I could think of a single offensive spell right now. I can't though.

Baz casts, " **Stay down** " at the same moment I drive my sword through his stomach.

His spell hits me in the centre of my chest and does... nothing.

It doesn't do anything.

And suddenly I think of millions of deadly spells, " **Off with his head** ”, “ **End of the line** ”, “ **Death and taxes** ”. All spells I know Baz knows. All spells he  _ didn’t  _ use. Only non-lethal ones to get me close and then made up ones to keep me there.

I suppose Baz Pitch got to play me one last time.

The sword of mages dissipates in my hand and Baz starts to crumple. I catch him without thinking about it and lower him into a sitting position, slumping on the floor across from him.

He wasn’t trying to kill me. And I’ve just stabbed him. And I don’t want to kill him.

I don’t want him to die.

I push my magic into him, willing him to fix himself.

“Simon,” cold hands grasp my face, already colder than normal, “don’t cry, Love.”

I hadn’t realised I was crying but his thumbs swipe under my eyes and I feel the wetness smudge across my face.

“Heal yourself.” My voice breaks as I plead with him. His hands falling over the wound on his stomach as I try to staunch the blood pouring out of it, all the while pushing magic into him.

His hands are insistent as he pulls me up to look me in the eye. “No, just let me talk. I need you to know- I need you to know I care about you. Everything that happened between us, I really did mean that, I wanted it, more than anything.”

I’m shaking my head as blood pours out over my hands. He can say this when he’s not dying. “I’m sorry, Baz. Please just heal yourself.” I push more magic into him. Because I don’t know the spells and even if I did they always go wrong and I can’t afford that right now.

“Simon, please, I need you to hear this, to understand that you’re loved. You think you’re so hard to love, but it’s so so easy.” His hands are only getting colder where they grip my face and when I shift he flinches. “You’re amazing Simon and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Baz,” I’m more insistent now, practically screaming, definitely sobbing. I’d lean into him but he’s holding me away so he can look at me and I can’t bear to do anything but what he wants now. “Fix yourself.”

He shakes his head and laughs, it’s bitter and cold but he’s looking at me so softly, like he used to when it was dark and he thought I couldn’t see him. “Listen to me, my time with you, friends, lovers, all of it, was the best of my life and even though it wasn’t for the right reasons, I did care about you and I did mean every moment of it.”

His grip is getting weaker and I can feel his hands start to fall away from my face.

“Simon, kiss me before I die?”

“You’re not going to die.” It comes out as a scream but a broken sob interrupts it.

One of his hands falls from my face. “It was always going to end like this. It’s okay, Love.”

But it’s not okay.

He’s not okay.

I’m not okay.

None of this is okay.

And the way his eyes are starting to glaze over as his eyelids droop shut isn’t okay.

But I won’t kiss him.

Because he’s not going to die.

I gather every last bit of magic I have and push all of it into him. All I can think is that I want him to be better. That I want to fix him.

And then Baz goes still for a moment and I think maybe it wasn’t enough.

What’s the point of all this power if it isn’t enough.

But then he gasps and sits up straighter and I feel the skin of his stomach and there’s no longer a gash.

So, I throw my arms around his neck and slump against him.

And I’m not sure I’ll ever let go again.

**Baz**

I’m not entirely sure what’s happened right now. Maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven because Snow is laying against me.

If this were heaven, though, he wouldn’t be sobbing and we wouldn’t both be covered in blood.

I’m not sure what he did but I feel fine for someone who just had a sword go in their stomach and come out their back. I feel fine for even someone that did not have that particular experience. Better than fine.

I tentatively raise a hand to the back of his head and he only grips me tighter.

“I’m sorry.” For once it comes from him, not me. It’s quiet and scared and followed by a series of sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He keeps repeating it. Like he isn’t already forgiven. Like he ever really did anything wrong.

“It’s okay, Love, it’s okay.” I murmur it in his ear even though the room is still deserted.

He leans back a moment and then tilts my head up and kisses me ferociously. Pushing his lips hard into mine. No technique, no method, no thought. Just want and fear and relief.

He pulls away and then all but growls at me, “Next time I say heal yourself Baz, for fuck's sake, heal yourself.”

Despite myself, I laugh a little and he looks livid. “I’m sorry, Snow. For everything.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. Just for stabbing you, not for the other stuff.”

I shrug. By now I’ve stopped trying to get rid of that particular thing I picked up off Snow. “Understandable.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

But before I can respond a voice rings out, “Simon.” The way that voice makes me want to hurl makes it immediately evident it’s the Mage.

He’s not here yet, but footsteps are fast approaching.

Snow looks panicked, like a deer in headlights as he stares at me. Then, once again I feel his magic pouring into me. I lean forward to kiss his cheek then mutter a quick, “ **There’s no place like home.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fam, so uni's heating up and shit and I've got loads to do so Imma just drop this and come back and reply to comments later (which are, as always, greatly appreciated) I'm not sure how long till the next chapter cause my writing has slowed. It won't be Thursday probs cause I got an exam but I'll try to have it to yall ASAP, except also we're basically at endgame/epilogue rn and those always take me ages so... IDK. Regardless, hope yall enjoy!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! I'm sorry this is so late. I've just not been in the mood for literally anything for like the past week, sorry! Also i was going to do 1 long epilogue chapter but it's probably going to be 3 or 4 more chapters of loose ends getting tied up (of which this is one). I promise I'll try and keep things coming, idk, life just got a bit much. 
> 
> Anyways, hope yall enjoy, sorry for making you wait so long!

**Baz**

I appear sprawled on the floor of our room at Watford, my back hitting the bed and keeping me upright.

More importantly, Simon Snow is still very much on top of me. I suppose this must be where he considers to be home as well.

If I’m honest I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Teleportation spells are troublesome things and you’re more likely to appear in something than not. With that much power though, I assumed we’d be okay, if not together. So, I was right and also a little wrong but I’m not complaining about the latter.

Snow looks up and glances around the room, a small smile making its way across his tear-stained face. Then he just crawls into my lap and slumps against me again, nuzzling his face into my neck.

And I just let him stay there and hold onto me. I hold onto him too. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into me even though there’s no space left between us, like if I pull hard enough he’ll become a part of me and we’ll never be separated again.

But for now, I’m just happy he’s safe. Safe and alive and with me. And I’m alive, mostly, which is no small feat on his part.

The thing about nearly dying is it very much sets you on edge, that and Snow’s magic coursing through me. But my hands are splayed against his back so I can feel the rise and fall of his chest and I can feel his warm breath against my neck. I let it all lull me back into a state of calm.

I’m not sure how much time passes, just that my limbs start to go numb where they’re under his weight and even somewhere they’re under mine.

Eventually, he looks up, “Baz, I-”

He’s struggling to speak again so I just wait. I used to run my hands through his hair when he got like this but that’s all gone now so I settle for cupping his cheek and tracing small circles with my thumb.

It does settle him some, “I’m not sure what I want from this,” he tells me and I feel my heart sink.

I don’t know why I assumed that had just fixed everything between us. I don’t know why it would.

Usually, in times like this, I’d retreat and tell him I didn’t want anything from this or something equally absurd and untrue. But months of distance and a near-death experience have made me weak. “It’s okay, Simon, you can have whatever you want from me, make it up as you go along.” He always did that anyway. Not that I minded.

“I want to do this, properly, I’m just not sure if I can...” he trails off.

“Trust me?” I supply.

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“I don’t expect you to take me back, Simon, I don’t even expect you to forgive me.” And I don’t. I don’t know why he would, now or ever. “But, I’d like to explain. Properly this time.”

He glances away, towards the window that is for once closed. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I meant it when I said I cared about you and I need you to know that. And when I said the Mage wasn’t treating you well enough, that wasn’t just political manoeuvring, it was the truth, you deserve so much better, Simon.”

He turns back to look at me, watching me silently for a few moments like he’s trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth or not.

“And I  _ did  _ do this because I was told to,” I tell him, having the displeasure of seeing how his lips pull down at the corners and his brow crinkles. “but I also did it because I wanted to.”

His glower starts up in earnest and I raise a hand to his cheek.

“I wanted to be around you, without fighting all the time. I didn’t want us to have to fight, and not just because I knew I’d let you win. I figured even if I couldn’t turn you to our side I could at least take you out of the war, keep you safe.” I look him in the eye as I say it, even as he leans into my palm and his eyes start to close. “I know it’s not an excuse and I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t believe me, I just thought you should know.

“You’re right, I don’t know if I believe you,” he sighs. My heart sinks as he pulls his face away from my hand, “I want to but I’m not sure I can. I finally thought you were done plotting against me. I was happy with you, happier than I’d ever been with Agatha.” He draws a shaky hand across his head, seemingly forgetting there are no curls for it to catch on. “Merlin, Baz, I was in love with you.”

_ Was. _

He looks away from me.

I don’t blame him for not loving me anymore. Not one bit.

“I loved you too,” I tell him, “I did before any of this started, I have for years.” He meets my gaze, uncertain, questioning. “I still do,” I basically spit out that confession like it pains me. He deserves to know though. He deserves to be loved and to know he’s loved. “I probably always will.”

He hesitates a moment then little by little he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine.

“I’m sorry I ruined everything,” I tell him, looking into beautiful mundane blue eyes that I never thought I’d see free of sorrow or rage again. “I should have told you. I nearly did, so many times. I probably shouldn’t have done it at all.”

“Enough apologising for tonight, yeah?” It’s not forgiveness, it’s not even accepting the apology. But it’s something. And we’ve talked. And maybe, just maybe, I can make this better.

He gives me a small smile and reaches behind me to pull the blanket off my bed. I take that moment to hit us both with a “ **Clean as a whistle** ” and the floor with another, “ **Soften up** ” because I suppose we’ll be sleeping there again.

The spells are less than ideal. Even with Simon’s magic, I’m still not in great shape.

“You lost a lot of blood,” he says, drawing back and pulling the blanket up to his chest, still sitting up. He looks a little guilty. I don’t want him to feel guilty but I’m also not sure how to fix it. “Do you need to hunt?”

Crowley, I swear he can never get a full sentence out half the time but whenever it comes to vampire issues he doesn’t have a problem. I don’t know if that’s relieving or worrying.

I give my head a small shake. “I don’t think it works like that. When I... drink, I don’t think it goes into my bloodstream.” How could it, after all.

“You think?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to go and get you something?”

An animal he means, I think. Frankly, though the thought of Simon Snow bringing me rats like he’s some kind of malicious cat is enough to make my stomach turn.

“I’m not going to bite you, Snow.”

I must sound defensive because he raises an eyebrow at me (poorly). “I didn’t think you would, I just want to help.”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t seem pleased with that answer but he drops the questioning, instead pulling a pillow off his bed and tossing it down on the floor beside us.

There’s more space between our beds than on them but he still snuggles in close, curling up against my chest and pulling the blanket up over both of us.

It’s not so different from the night everything started between us, when he first kissed me. Everything’s so uncertain, so fragile. There are a million things I want to say and do. It all needs to wait though. I just need to savour this. I shouldn’t push him. Let him take what he wants from me and hope against hope that it’s a relationship.

Even if I don’t deserve it.

**Simon**

I wake up before Baz as per usual. I’m hungry and I’m getting a headache, probably from all that crying yesterday. I’m not really sure I can bring myself to move right now, to even open my eyes.

If I just don’t move, I can pretend the last six months didn’t happen. That I never found out Baz was just using me, that I never had to live with someone I loathed and longed for at the same time, that I never stuck my sword through Baz’s abdomen yesterday.

I can just pretend we’re together and happy and that we don’t have to fight each other ever again.

Baz groans as he wakes and I feel it as well as hearing it because my head is still rested on his chest. I smile a little to myself, I can’t help it, even after everything.

I shift so I can put my head down on the pillow beside Baz and tilt my head slightly. He places three kisses up my neck and I can’t help but feel that maybe my world has shifted back into place, that everything is how it should be for once.

Baz gives a small sigh and leaves his forehead resting against my neck.

I want to stay here forever.

But even as I think that everything that’s happened between us comes flooding back and by the time I get to ‘Baz tried to turn me against the Mage’, I realise that I just left, in the middle of a battle, without a word.

Merlin, I need to go find him now.

I sit up and dislodge a very disgruntled Baz. It’s times like these when he’d wrap his arms around me and pull me back into him but for once he just stays there. I’m not sure if I prefer it this way or not.

“Hungry?” he asks, the hint of a smirk making its way across his grey lips.

I shake my head.

Then I shrug and nod because I  _ am  _ hungry.

“I need to get back to the Mage,” I say, already standing up and gathering up the clothes I kicked off last night. Not that anything happened. It’s just torn jeans aren’t the most comfortable thing to sleep in.

Baz sounds tired, even as he tells me to slow down.

By some miracle, Baz manages to drag himself out of bed immediately this morning and puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me as I nearly tip over while putting on a shoe. “Simon, stop.”

“I need to go see the Mage, this,” I gesture between us with one finger, “doesn’t change that.”

“I know, I know, just slow down and give me a second.” Baz collects his jeans from the floor and digs around in the pockets till he finds his wallet. He draws out a hundred quid and hands it to me. Then he pauses and hands me a hundred more.

I try and thrust it back towards him but he’s already abandoned his jeans back to the floor in favour of rummaging through his desk drawer. It’s not like I haven’t seen Baz in nothing but his pants before, it’s just that it was never really a regular occurrence, and I haven’t seen it in a while.

He pulls the phone he bought me at Christmas out, along with a charge and holds them both out towards me. “Call me, if you want to come to Hampshire for the rest of the summer. I’ll tell my father I’ve managed to string you along again or something.”

I put the money down on the desk and step away from Baz, holding up my hands. “Stop it, the Mage-”

“Fuck the Mage, Snow. This isn’t about the Mage. This is about making sure you’re properly fed and looked after.” He pointedly thrusts the phone towards me again.

I’d run out of here if I wasn’t only wearing one shoe. And if I didn’t think he’d chase me down, even in his pants.

I watch him for several moments before sighing. “Baz, I can’t just leave again, not after last time.”

He takes the money off the table and goes for his wallet again, tucking it back inside.

I think maybe he’s conceded, that maybe he’ll let it go. But I know Baz better than that.

He holds his credit card out to me. “The pin is 7158, make sure you stay fed and get enough water and for fuck's sake buy yourself a pair of jeans without rips.”

“I can’t take that,” I object again but he’s insistent.

“Simon, please.”

Fuck.

And I thought him manipulating me was over. If you can even call the use of the word ‘please’ manipulation (which, coming from Baz, I do).

“Fine,” I concede and take the card, tucking it into my back pocket.

He looks like he’s still trying whether to coax or threaten me into submission, “the phone too, in case you need anything.”

I sigh and scoop it up, tucking the charger and the phone into my jacket. “Happy?”

He looks me up and down for a moment before drawing another fifty from his wallet and holding it out to me. “In case you decide to get a cab to my place?”

I give an exasperated sigh but I take it.

“Thank you, Simon.”

I close the distance between us and take him by the back of the neck, pulling him down so my mouth can meet his. He seems surprised at first, but quickly settles, hands creep under my jacket to rest against my back and his mouth is more than responsive to mine. I stay there, savouring it for several long moments before pulling away, more out of breath than I intended.

Baz moves away from me, pulling out his own phone. “I should call my father. Do you need anything else?”

I just shake my head and put my other shoe on, leaning over to kiss Baz once more on the cheek before I head out.

I’m not sure what this means for us.

I’m not even sure whether or not I want to go back to Hampshire with him.

But I do want to be near him.

And I want to figure this all out.

What I don’t want to do is go and face the Mage, to explain to him what’s happened. Merlin, he’s going to be livid.

“It’s good to have you back, Simon, I was worried you’d become a traitor.” That was what he’d said to me when he’d found out me and Baz had ended things.

I wonder what he’ll think of me now.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righto, so we are well and truely in the end game now, for now only 2 more chapters (one of which I have already written). The end is nigh!  
> I had something important to say here but I've forgotten so?? Might update the notes later who knows? Not me.

**Simon**

I send the Mage a bird on the way back to the boy’s home I’m at this year.

He’s there as soon as I get off the train. Still dressed ridiculously, it makes me a little embarrassed to be seen with him actually, but I think that’s just because of all the shots Baz takes about the way he dresses.

“Simon,” he greets me with a nod of his head, his hand rests on his hip, just over his sword. I wonder if he’s got some sort of illusion on or if the Normals just think he’s cosplaying. “I thought maybe something had happened to you.”

I shake my head. “No sir, I’m fine.”

“I saw you run after the Pitch boy. He didn’t hurt you did he.”

Every time I think about it I feel sick. Violently, painfully sick. There was so much blood and Baz was dying and it was all my fault. He wasn’t even really fighting back.

I must look as unnerved as I feel because the Mage prompts me, “Simon, did he hurt you?”

“No-” I shake my head and it does nothing to make the nausea worse, “No, I stabbed him.”

“You killed him?”

_ Nearly _ . I was close. Far, far too close.

“I- No, no he’s fine.”

The Mage sighs and places a hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry there’s always next time.”

_ Next time? _

There’s not going to be a next time. Not after watching Baz nearly die in front of me.

“I don’t  _ want  _ to kill him, sir,” I protest, trying to persuade myself as much as him. That I didn’t mean to. That I didn’t want to hurt him.

“No one wants to kill, Simon, it’s just the reality of war.”

The sickness comes and goes in waves and I think how delighted Baz would be if I threw up on the Mage. I’m not going to but somehow it helps to think about that right now. “I’m not going to kill anyone. I don’t want to fight in this fucking war.”

I look around to see who nearby is smoking. It takes me a moment to realise it’s my magic. I try to calm it. The Mage only makes it worse though.

I shouldn’t speak to him like this, I shouldn’t yell. But after nearly killing my boyfriend and being told to do better next time and finish the job I think I should be able to yell as much as I want.

“It’s your destiny, Simon.”

“No, my destiny is to stop the Humdrum.” I’m still shouting, a few passers-by give me weird looks. I ignore them as best I can and try to get my voice under control. “I don’t want to be a part of this stupid war.”

The Mage examines me for a moment, looking me up and down like he can figure out what’s wrong with me. Frankly, though, I don’t think not wanting to kill people is something wrong with me.

He purses his lips, “Simon, have you considered that the Pitch boy is just trying to pull you over to their side.”

Well. That input would have been useful this time last year.

“I’m not on their side. I don’t want to be on anyone’s side.”

And I mean it. After going in there yesterday, I recognised more than the majority of the people in that room. All of whom were nice to me. Baz says they’re all snakes but none of them tried to send me to a boys home so I think I prefer the snakes right about now. I don’t think I could kill them. Any of them.

Maybe Baz’s plot did work. Maybe this was his plan all along. Maybe he played me  _ again _ yesterday. But these thoughts predated his deathbed confessions and our conversation.

Maybe he won ages ago.

The Mage frowns at me, the disappointed kind of one he always gives me when I can’t manage a spell or slay a monster. “You’re the Chosen One, Simon, you don’t have the luxury of not picking a side.”

I should stop. Should pull back. I don’t want to argue with the Mage.

But I also don’t want to go to a home every summer or fight in a war or kill my boyfriend.

“I do. I can just not fight,” I offer up as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. Baz would laugh at me. To me though, it is. Why can’t I just not fight?

“Be reasonable, Simon. If the Families, if the Pitches, had their way, you wouldn’t even be allowed to attend Watford.”

Honestly, the thought of that just makes things worse. My life was shite before Watford. My life when I’m not there used to be shite too.

I shrug though. “That doesn’t mean they have to die, sir.”

“It’s them or us.”

I just groan and go to run a hand through my hair, only to realise it isn’t there anymore. There’s just no getting through to him. But he can’t  _ make  _ me fight and he sure as snakes can’t make me kill.

I’m not sure how exactly I go about getting through to him about this so I just don’t. “I’ll see you next year,” I say and go to walk past him.

He doesn’t try to stop me. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s given up like I have or because of the sheer amount of magic leaking out of me right now.

“Simon, where are you going.”

I stop a second and turn back to him shoving my hand in my pocket and feeling the weight of the phone Baz gave me there. And then I know where I’m going.

“Hampshire,” is all I say as I walk away.

Time to get some fucking food.

* * *

Baz insists on driving out to get me instead of letting me get a cab. “Get yourself something to eat, I’ll be there in half an hour, surely you can entertain yourself that long.”

He’s dismissive as usual. Merlin, we’d been at odds again for so long, but with Baz being softer, kinder than before, I’d almost forgotten what he’s actually like when he’s not racked with guilt and trying to placate me.

And now he's back to being an arse.

Even if I kind of prefer it this way.

I'm halfway through a plate of fish and chips when Baz slides into the seat opposite me.

I try to say hello but my mouth is full of food so it more or less just comes out as a noise. He rolls his eyes at that, though he does at least look a little amused.

I stab my fork into a piece of fish and hold it out to him.

He stares at me, not moving an inch, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. I hold his gaze, for much longer than I'm comfortable with because I need to finish chewing.

"They're not that noticeable, try it."

He stares at me again for another moment but I just thrust the fork forward again.

He sighs and closes his mouth around the fish.

I smile to myself and mark that down as a victory as I tuck back into my food. "You should get one if you're hungry."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine."

Well, if he's fine then I suppose he won’t be taking any more of my food. I won’t  _ let  _ him.

He immediately steals one of my chips.

I consider telling him off but I see a flash of fang as he pops it in his mouth and it settles me some. Better this than nothing I suppose.

We eat mostly in silence, me alternating between fish and chip, all but shovelling food into my mouth. Baz just steadily picks at my chips. My generosity only goes so far though.

He sees me glaring as he takes another and sighs, "relax Snow, you can buy another one for the trip back."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to eat in your car?"

He'd been adamant about that. No eating in the car, something about Italian leather costing more than all of my internal organs combined.

"I figure if your mouth is full of food it'll stop you from singing along to the radio," he deadpans, popping another chip in his mouth.

I pull the plate away from him. If he's going to be an arse he doesn't get my chips. Even if I'm paying for them with money he gave me.

He just laughs at me and calls the waiter over to order another packed up so we can go. It's not like it takes me long to finish anyway.

**Baz**

Simon  _ does  _ sing in the car on the way back. More loudly and obnoxiously than usual too. He eats as well, so I suppose I lose on two separate fronts there.

But here's here with me, not off with the Mage, or in a home. And he's happy enough, at least I think he is, so I find I don't quite mind his eccentricities right now.

I never do.

 

**Simon**

Baz mostly leaves me in peace when we get back to his place. Something about being in a home for most of the summer makes me crave some time alone. No privacy, no space. Baz's house has more space than anyone could ever know what to do with.

It's lonely too, because I don't make friends with the Normals.

I kind of want to be around Baz.

But I also kind of just want to be alone.

I'm not sure what I really want, so I just go with the second one. I'll have Baz all Summer and I  _ always _ want to be around him, so that can wait.

I don't know how he knows, but he does. He just gives me his laptop password and tells me he's going to practice in the library. Then he just doesn't come back, not for hours on end. Letting me pull back from everything and sort through my thoughts (as best I can without thinking about them), so I can remember what solitude feels like.

I hear a knock from the door and I glance up from where I'm lying on my stomach atop Baz's bed.

"Eating with us, Snow?"

His meaning is implicit, do I need more time alone or not?

"I don't know, Basilton, are  _ you  _ going to eat with  _ us _ ?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, jerking his head towards the hallway behind him as he turns to leave.

I just sigh, as much as I love that Baz lets me eat off his plate when he gets dinner (which means I get a second dinner), I wish he was comfortable enough to eat with his family. Or is it that his family won’t let him eat with them? Maybe I should ask Vera or Daphne.

Dinner goes well, mostly. Baz still won’t eat. It's delicious though and unlike at Christmas I don't have to wear a suit, so I'm more than content.

"Do you want me to have Vera make you up a room?" He asks me quietly, almost nervously as we head back to his after dinner.

"Do you want me to sleep in a different room?" I pose the question back at him and immediately regret it. It's not that I don't want to stay with him, I'm just not sure where all this leaves us, I stabbed him for snake's sake. But whenever I push Baz to even remotely confirm his interest in me without first doing the same he pulls away.

He looks at me for a moment, almost seeming conflicted before he says, "no. I want you to stay with me."

I smile at him and reach for his hand, threading his fingers through mine. "Good, me too."

We don't talk much, I'm sure there's loads to catch up on but I've not even sure where to start with the way things are between us. So we revert to old habits and nestle in beside each other and watch movies on Baz's laptop while he picks at his dinner (and I eat what's left of it when he's done).

"I think that's enough for tonight," he says closing his laptop and the credits roll and tucking it under his bed.

There's a pause where neither of us quite know what to do.

"Do you want pillows for the couch or..." he trails off. He so rarely trails off. I thought we already established I was sharing with him. Does he just think I'm afraid of the wraiths or is he just being cautious? I don't blame him. Should I be being more cautious about his feelings towards all this?

"Can I stay with you, do you mind?" There's something more tentative than normal in my voice, something I don't really recognise.

He smiles at me and it's warmer than usual, more genuine, the kind I only ever get to see when he's trying and failing to hold it back. I'm pretty sure he's trying and failing right now. I wish he didn't feel the need to try at all. "Of course."

We dress for bed, me throwing on some of the pyjamas Baz bought me last time I was here.

I curl up with my head on his chest, wrapping my legs around one of his and holding tight to his arm, the one that doesn't currently have a hand resting on the back of my neck.

It takes me a while to start to feel properly tired. It takes just as long for me to figure out what's missing.

I look up at Baz and I'm a little surprised to see him already looking down at me but I don't comment. He looks soft, open, and he wipes it away the second we make eye contact. "Where are the wraiths?"

"They moved out," he says, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Lucky."

"Not really, I creep out wraiths, quite the feat but not really an achievement."

Ah, vampire thing. He's always so tetchy about that. So insecure.

"I like it," I tell him, shifting up so I can place a kiss on his cheek.

Then I decide to just stay there. I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and move my hand up to press to his free cheek warming it some. He tugs the blankets up before folding his hand over mine. I tuck the ends of his fingers in between his cheek and my palm.

"The creepiness or the lack of wraiths?"

"The wraiths are much creepier than you."

I hear him huff out a laugh and smile to myself. "The wraiths can't hurt you."

"They can't snuggle with me either."

"Have you tried asking nicely."

"Don't need to."

And I don't. I'm perfectly happy here, even if we are still muddling through the details, I'm more than happy. Right here.

I fall asleep listening to the sounds of Baz's breathing and with the scent of cedar and bergamot enveloping me. I know we did the exact same thing last night, but it's not quite the same right after one of you has nearly died. Had nearly been killed by the other.

I try not to think about it.

I try not to think about anything.

I just try to be happy.

And for now, at least, it works.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, one chapter to go and I haven't actually finished it yet. Epilogues are hard fam! So it's probs a little while off but look, they're happy and together so enjoy that for now. Though a proper ending will come later, I promise!

**Simon**

I'm draped over a plush chair, legs thrown over the arm of it while I listen to Baz practice.

I had been reading, or at least pretending to read, a book of fairy tales Baz told me to read, for the spells I think, I just find them interesting.

I find him more interesting though, so the book is little more than a weight splayed open across my chest right now. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. A note must be off because Baz huffs and restarts the piece.

I don't mind, it all sounds good.

It's easier to just listen to him. To not think.

He's exiled his family from the library, he tried to throw me out too but I refused to budge.

He stops again and sighs. "Snow, leave."

My eyes snap open and I sit up as best I can laying the wrong way across the armchair. "What?"

"Leave, you're putting me off."

I roll my eyes and make a show of not moving as best I can, folding my arms across my chest in protest. "I'm not doing anything, how am I putting you off?"

"Your presence is off-putting," he tells me, I raise an eyebrow at him, I've been practising I think I'm getting better but he just looks amused, "you're a distraction."

"How am I distracting you?"

"You're  _ always  _ distracting me."

I groan and stand up, tossing the book down on a table. Baz, apparently thinking he's won, turns back around and raises the violin to his shoulder again. And he calls me an idiot.

I wrap my arms around his middle and rest my forehead against the back of his neck (because I can't get my chin up on his shoulder unless he leans down a little).

"What do you want, Snow?"'

"To distract you." I tug the back of his collar down a little and place a kiss to the newly revealed skin. "Keep going," I encourage, resting my head against him again.

He does, for a little while, I close my eyes again. If it were anyone else this wouldn't be relaxing I don't think, but Baz barely moves anything except the arm holding his bow.

And it's wonderful.

It's always wonderful hearing him play.

Nothing sounds wrong to me but I feel the vibrations of his chest when he sucks in a breath that means now he's really agitated. Not at me, I don't think, more at him. Whether or not he decides to take it out on me is a different story.

This time he's not starting again though. He just leans back into me a little, tipping his head back and giving a gentle exhale. I squeeze his middle and he brings a hand down to rest over one of mine, he's still holding his bow and it sits between us but I don't mind and he doesn't seem to either.

We stay like that for several long moments, a couple of my fingers slipping between his shirt buttons to trace the cool skin of his stomach.

He seems calmer, softer, content, like he's not quite ready to move from my grasp. And I don't want him to. The warmer his back grows against my chest only makes me want to stay more with every passing moment.

"I've been thinking," I say, chewing my lip slowly, waiting for the inevitable 'that's a first'

It doesn't come.

"About what, Love?" he says instead. I place a kiss to his neck again and feel the soft vibration of a contented hum under my lips.

"About what you said about only doing what you did to get me out of the war, so we didn't have to fight." I feel him stiffen under my grasp a little but I don't let up and I certainly don't let go. "What if we both just didn't."

"Fight each other?" he asks, there's a bitter edge to it but there's less than usual so I don't mind, "I thought we already agreed to that."

"No, I'm already not going to fight you, no matter what," I squeeze him a little tighter in what I hope is reassurance, "What if we just... didn't fight. At all. Pulled out of the war and let the rest of them go at it if they want."

He gives another sigh but this one is less content and more pained. I half wish he was facing me, so I could try and gage what he's thinking, not that I can ever tell anyway.

As if reading my mind he just turns in my arms, still holding his violin and bow as he drapes his arms over my shoulders. Not quite a hug because he doesn't want to damage his instrument I'm sure, but enough to keep me close. As if I'd move away anyway.

"Snow, I'd love to," he starts and I smile at him. It quickly fades as he continues, "but they're my family. I can't leave them to fight and die because of the Mage's hunger for power."

Funny, the Mage says similar things about their hunger for power. I don't tell Baz this.

"But-" he doesn't cut me off, I'm just not sure what to say to that. I'm not sure  _ how  _ to convince him.

He seems to decide eventually, that I'm not going to say anything. "If Bunce were on the Mage's side or even the Families, if her life was affected and she was fighting for it, wouldn't you be there too? She is the closest thing you have to family."

And he's right, I suppose, I always thought it was the Mage but I barely see him. Penny though, Penny would be different.

I meet his gaze and frown, "are you asking me to come to this side for you?"

Baz laughs a little his head tilting back, I think I actually see a glimpse of fang. "Crowley, no. I want you to stay out of the war, Simon. I'm just trying to explain to you why I can't."

He just watches me for a moment. He's been doing that a lot again; waiting for me to make the first move. I appreciated it at first when I was just getting settled back into this, but it's been weeks now and I mostly just want things to go back to normal.

I  watch him too, deliberating, thinking. I shouldn't go crawling back to the Mage just to spite Baz, that would be stupid. "Okay."

He looks a little confused, or more like he's demanding answers which is Baz's version of confused, "What?"

"I'll stay out of the war, I- I already told the Mage I was." I reach up and run a hand through my hair, it's gotten longer these past few weeks to the point where it's just starting to curl again. Baz told me he'll leave me if I ever shave it off again.

"Good," he says as I return my hand to his back, leaning into him a little more. "I'm sorry I can't do the same."

I shake my head against his shoulder if it's messing up his shirt he doesn't say anything. "It's fine, I get it, just don't get hurt, yeah?"

"I'll-"

A knock sounds at the door and Baz looks up. He doesn't move. I don't either, his family know about us anyway, what's the point?

"Your father wants to see you again, Basilton." Vera, I think.

"Of course," Baz says drawing back from me and turning to pack away his violin after I reluctantly release him.

I remember what happened last time. Last time Baz got called into his father's study to talk. I wonder if it's about me again.

It doesn't matter, I'm not listening in this time.

I trust that he's not plotting anymore, or at least, I want to. And if he is, I don't want to know about it. Ignorance is bliss and all that.

He offers me his violin case, "could you take this to my room, Love."

Does he think he's just allowed to use pet names instead of ‘please’?

I take it anyway, "no problem,  _ Darling _ ," I say it mockingly but he flushes a little.

_ Oh _ .

I note that one down for later and lean up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It feels daft to say, 'see you later' or 'I'll wait in your room', so instead I say, "Good luck," and it makes him laugh so it's well worth it.

**Baz**

"Father," I say, keeping every hint of worry out of my voice even though it feels like it's seeping out of me like Simon's magic.

He looks up at me from his chair behind the desk, motioning for me to sit.

I do consider protesting and standing and telling him that whatever it is he wants me to do to Simon I simply won’t.

But I do sit, propping one ankle up on my knee and propping my head up on my hand, doing my best to somehow look more bored than my father does right now. I'm not sure if I'm succeeding or not, he's had far more practice.

"What is your plan with Snow," he says slowly, watching me carefully but trying to look like he's not.

I answer honestly for once, "I don't have one."

He sighs, "really Basilton, one shouldn't act without a plan, but I suppose this should be easy enough to remedy. Have you convinced him what he misunderstood last Christmas?"

"No."

"But you think you can?" he prompts.

"Probably, but I'm not going to."

I see a flash of something across his features, surprise? Confusion? Concern? "Then  _ why  _ is he here?"

It takes nearly all I have to stare my father in the eye as I say, "because he's my boyfriend."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "That's not an answer."

"The Mage was going to send him back to a home again, I wasn't going to let that happen."

"And if I say he can't stay here?"

"Then we'll go to Fiona's," I say simply.

He scowls. " _ We _ ?"

I don't back down an inch. "Yes."

He rubs a hand across his cheek and schools his face back into boredom, I suppose that means I'm winning. "Crowley, I should never have allowed you to do this. You know this can't last, don't you?"

Maybe I'm not winning because I feel my brow crease slightly and at the moment that's basically me glaring daggers. "I don't see why not."

"He's not from one of the Families, Basilton." He says it like he's trying to let me down gently or pretending to at least. "You can't marry below your status like that. This can't be more than a dalliance."

I realise I'm chewing the inside of my cheek and force myself to stop. "Funny," the word comes out colder than I intend, "Fiona says something similar."

"Me and Fiona agreeing on something should be more than enough to convince you. It happens infrequently enough"

"Oh no, not about me. About my mother  _ marrying down _ ."

He stiffens a little and his eyes narrow. My mother has always been something of a sore spot for him, it's a sore spot for all of us I suppose. "I'm still your father and you still have to respect me," he basically hisses.

I maintain the bored facade, for what it's worth. "All I'm saying is, it's not unheard of. Besides, he's the Greatest Mage, surely that merits Old Family status in and of itself."

"Perhaps if you could get him to align with us, it would." Apparently, he's managed to compose himself, so now we're back on that. Lovely.

"Simon has agreed to not fight us. That will have to be enough."

"But imagine if he fought  _ with  _ us."

"I'd rather not."

My father sighs again, apparently, I'm getting on his nerves more than normal today. Good. He's getting on mine. "Be reasonable, Basilton."

"No, he's been used by the Mage for long enough he doesn't need to be someone else’s toy soldier. Just leave him out of your plots."

"But-"

"No," I cut him off which probably isn't going to do wonders for my relationship with him, he's practically seething already, but I won’t entertain the idea. "He's left the Mage, leave him be. I still want to help the Families, however I can, but Simon cannot be a part of that."

My father leans back in his chair and eyes me carefully. "You may leave," he says eventually, apparently having decided I was not going to budge on this issue. He's correct on that at least.

"Thank you, Father."

I push up from my chair and make for the door, slipping outside and trying to calm the racing of my heart.

Crowley, I probably shouldn't have done that.

Snow's laying on my bed flicking through something on my laptop when I enter but he sits bolt upright the moment I open the door.

He still here at least. So, we're one up on last time.

"Are you alright? I'm not causing problems, am I?"

"You're always causing problems for me." I collapse onto the bed beside him and he immediately attaches himself to me. "But yes, I'm fine. I just had to make a few things clear to my father."

"Like that we're actually dating?" He's taken a hold of my hand now and is running his fingers along it, slipping them up my sleeve to wrap around my wrist.

"Among other things."

He doesn't ask what other things.

Good.

I'm going to need him not to if I'm going to stay in this infernal war.

I'm going to need him to trust me.

And he doesn't, not yet but he's trying and it's all I can ask for and more than I deserve.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooow A++ me, over a month after the previous chapter D:   
> Legit tho sorry yall, I got super busy and then I wrote this shit and then me and a beta agreed that it was absolute shite (it was like 90% exposition tbh) so then I rewrote it. Basically, it has not been a cooperative chapter but it's here now so?? It mightn't have been worth the wait but Idk enjoy some closure/conclusions or whatever.   
> Was tempted to actually write a post-watford conclusion but I get too caught up in trying to properly tie up the war+Simon's magic+Natasha so this ends early 8th year.  
> Oh also, no carry on countdown today if u were expecting that, sozzle

**Simon**

Baz's hand falls onto my knee on the car-ride to the club. I swear he can sense when I'm uneasy.

I run a hand through my hair before placing it over his. "You sure I shouldn't do it?"

He glances over at me and if he hadn't done it a thousand times before I'd tell him to keep watching the road. "You? They'll tear you apart." I frown a little but his hand squeezes my knee. "You telling the Families that you don't want to fight them? Seems a bit like a surrender after what we did, doesn't it?"

"Seems a bit like cowardice if you do it for me," I argue back even though I really don't want to do it.

"They'll listen to me, if only slightly more than they'll listen to you."

I shrug and focus my attention on the cars zipping past outside the window.

"Besides Snow, you can barely spit out a sentence of casual conversation. I doubt you'll manage a graceful surrender speech."

"Not a surrender," I remind him.

"I know that. They don't."

We're silent for the rest of the ride. I'd almost think we were fighting if his hand wasn't slowly warming under my palm. He tugs it away from me as he pulls into the carpark.

"Look," he says, giving me pause as he turns off his car, "I know you don't want to do this, why are you fighting for it?"

So maybe Baz isn't as amazing at reading me as he thinks he is (and that I sometimes think he is).

"I don't want you to have to do it." It's so simple and easy for me to say but I see Baz's expression soften as I do. Sometimes I forget that despite the money and the family that Baz is about as used to other people looking out for him as I am.

He collects himself quickly enough, still so obviously uncomfortable with being vulnerable for more than a few moments, but I suppose I can understand that. "I'll be fine, Simon. Come on, let’s get you some cakes."

He does get me some cakes, leaving me with a small pile of them before disappearing off to Merlin knows where for these super-secret meetings they hold at what is basically a magical country club. Posh bastards. Posh bastards with good cakes.

For the most part, people have stopped treating me like some kind of special exhibit at the zoo while I'm here. So, I'm a little surprised when I hear someone take a seat beside me at the table.

"Simon," Agatha gives me a somewhat tentative smile. I give her a proper one.

Penny still hasn't quite forgiven Agatha. I don't think Baz likes her enough to bother trying.

I like Agatha though. Too much to just stop being friends. Holding grudges is exhausting and if I can forgive Baz for betraying me, I think it's more than fair if I forgive Agatha too.

"Hey," I mumble around a mouthful of cake.

Agatha's features contort a little in disgust. It's an expression I've seen countless times on Baz, but Agatha's isn't fake or laced with affection, so maybe it should hurt. It doesn't. But maybe it should.

"Are you here with someone?" She asks and for a moment I wonder if she's concerned for me or if she's trying to get me thrown out.

I nod and swallow the multitude of cake in my mouth, being graced with the suffering of feeling it slowly slide down my throat no matter how hard I gulp or swallow. "Baz, he's just," I gesture to one of the hallways.

Agatha and her family are still very much aligned with the Mage. More so than me now, I suppose. So somehow telling her exactly what Baz is doing seems like a bad idea, even if the Families have no concept of subtlety.

A frown mars her pretty face for a moment. "I thought you were done with Baz?"

"So, did I," I shrug, "things change."

It feels wrong discussing it with Agatha. We haven't even been to see Penny in this whole debacle yet so she has no clue what's going on. Though admittedly that's more my fault than Baz's. He  _ wants  _ to go see Penny, brings it up every other day. But I just got him back and I prefer it if he survived the Summer. He calls me stupid and brave but facing down Penny in the wake of what he did to me is possibly the dumbest thing anyone has ever suggested.

Agatha doesn't say anything, just regards me with an air of apprehension.

I take the opportunity to devour another mini cake.

Things do eventually settle between us. We guide the conversation towards more menial things, horses, the impending school term, the weather.

Baz returns eventually, but not after long enough I don't think. There's no one else making an exit with him.

Agatha notices too because she comments, "Baz is back."

"Must've got sent out early so the adults could talk."

"We're the adults now too, Simon."

I shrug, "I mean the real adults."

Agatha gives me a withering look.

Baz makes a minor detour to grab himself some tea and a small plate laden with cakes.

He takes a seat beside me and pushes the plate of cakes towards me. I all but beam at him, but can't help but tease, "what, no tea for your boyfriend?"

I see a smirk on his face, peeking out at me over the lip of the teacup. "You should go get it yourself, work off all those cakes." He gives the leg of my chair a gentle kick, shifting me over slightly but not really dislodging me. "Wellbelove," he greets coolly, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands across his lap.

I take the opportunity to snatch his teacup and take a sip. He doesn't move to stop me and I quickly realise why, scrunching up my face at the absence of milk.

Baz is probably amused but it's hard to tell with him and Agatha exchanging possibly the frostiest pleasantries I've ever heard.

Baz's hand comes to rest on the table top and Agatha eyes it like he's breaking etiquette specifically to spite her. I pretend I don't see it and just drape my hand over Baz's giving it a light squeeze.

And now Agatha's looking at me like I'm the one doing something odd. Which I suppose to her maybe I am?

With me and Agatha, it was never just holding hands for the sake of it. It was usually when Baz was around. More possessive, more to stake a claim, or in Agatha's case (maybe both our cases) to try and make him jealous.

With Baz, it's not like that though. It's touching just because I want to. And because he wants me to and I want to give him what he wants. No real motives behind it. Sitting with hands clasped under the table at dinner, a hand that rested on my lower back whenever we'd ascend the steps of Mummer's House, my head in his lap whenever he's reading.

Frankly, if I didn't think people would start giving us looks, I'd consider seating myself in his lap and playing with his hair.

Maybe we should go home and do that.

It's not like Baz and Agatha want to catch up anyway, they're both doing that thing all the people here do where they smile at you while glaring with their eyes. It's unnerving.

"We should get going," I say nodding towards the door and giving Baz's hand another squeeze.

Agatha looks more relieved than anything. I don't blame her, I've been on the receiving end of Baz's annoyance before.

He doesn't even question it, playing along better than I manage to and it was my idea. He sweeps to his feet and finishes the last of his tea before bidding Agatha farewell.

"You don't want to play some tennis or something?" He asks me slowly, "I don't want to have dragged you all this way just to wait for me."

I'm still holding his hand except now he's threaded his fingers through mine.

I shake my head. "I got cake and to catch up with Agatha, so I'm fine." Baz wrinkles his nose like that really doesn’t seem appealing at all. "How'd your meeting go?"

He shrugs, a habit he hates that he claims he's gotten from me. "I said what I had to, whether or not they act on it, I can't say."

"Can't or won’t?"

He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "It means I don't know, Simon."

"I know what it means," I snap back.

It's always like this, snapping and bickering with no real punch behind it anymore. Sometimes I think this is the only way we really know how to communicate but I really don't mind.

"So that's Wellbelove down, shall we go see Bunce tomorrow?"

I sigh and roll my eyes at him. Merlin, it's like he doesn't value his own life sometimes.

**Baz**

I do eventually convince him we should go see Penelope.

He's a stubborn bastard, but he loses some of that when he actually wants to do what I'm suggesting. Like going to see Bunce. I know he wants to see her, he's near dying to see her. He talks about her all the time and I'd almost be jealous if I didn't have it on Bunce's authority that he never shuts up about me when he's with her and hasn't for the past seven years.

He tries to stop and talk as I get out of the car, looking more than a little slighted when I ignore him.

"Baz," he practically hisses, chasing me down.

He's trying to be quiet I think, to get in one last speech about how I'm walking into my demise. So, I meet his gaze and wrap twice on the door just moments before he collides with me, knocking me back a couple of steps. Apparently, he was intending to tackle me out of the way.

I roll my eyes at him but can help the slightly fond smile that makes its way to my face as I right both of us.

He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get it out the door opens beside us.

Whatever Snow has been expecting Penelope's reaction to be, I can only assume it's worsened with an extra layer of exasperation when she sees us clutching at each other on her porch.

Snow's 'words' quickly dissolve into a cough as I'm pretty sure he starts choking on air and he relinquishes me faster than he ever has, taking a step back.

I suppose I have to do the talking for the both of us for the moment. "Afternoon Bunce, how's your summer been?" There's a level of mock cheeriness to it that I only employ because I know it will rile Snow up.

Bunce seems about as concerned for Simon as I do right about now. That is to say, not at all. Though it's not like this is outside of his particular brand of catastrophe.

She folds her arms and stares me down, though I expected as much. "Fine. And yours? Mainly spend plotting with the Families I assume?"

Ah, right to the point as always.

"Crowley, you sound like Snow in fifth year," I tell her because she does. They both shoot me a well-deserved dirty look. I pay it no heed. I mean, he  _ was _ right all along but he did sound absolutely mad.

I think Bunce is about to say as much but an apparently recovered Snow steps in. "Lay off him, Penny. He's not out to get me." Penelope does not look convinced by his words but Snow doesn't seem inclined to linger on that. "It's good to see you," he tells her and I see her relax some as she focuses her attention on him.

"You too, Simon. I thought you weren't coming to visit?"

He shrugs, "Baz convinced me."

"He didn't want to come. He thought you'd turn me into a toad. But you wouldn't do that, would you, Bunce?" I ask, faux sweetness returning to my voice.

"A toad? No. I'd have to kiss you to turn you back. I was thinking maybe a snake would be more appropriate?" she fires back. I try not to let my amusement show.

Snow apparently finds less joy in this little conversation because he growls out a low, warning, "Penelope."

"Relax Snow, I'll be fine," I tell him even though I know it will do little to reassure him, it will give me a right of 'I told you so' later.

"Simon, can you go check in Pip?" Bunce asks, obviously trying to get rid of him so she can lay into me. For once, Simon picks up on the social queue and looks to me for a moment.

I give him a firm nod and gesture inside with a nod of my head.

He apparently relents, the begrudgingly and Penelope steps aside for him to get past her.

She snaps the door closed behind him, keeping us both outside. She doesn't look angry though, or scared. Just tired and exasperated. "What's your game, Baz? None of this makes sense."

I raise an eyebrow at her, "I assume Simon's caught you up on everything?" I know they've been messaging but I doubt that's enough to sate Snow. Months on end with only me and my siblings for company would get tiresome quite quickly I assume.

"I mean yes, but none of it makes sense Baz. Why screw him over then immediately tell me to come get him? Why ruin his life and then let him kill you?" Penelope pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, taking a deep breath. She looks like she wants to continue but when she looks back up at me all she says is, "why?"

And I think for the moment at least, that the time for being patronising or cruel or cold has passed. Because she does just care about Simon. Crowley, sometimes I think she's the only person who  _ actually  _ cares for Simon. Who won’t use him when he's needed and ignore him the rest. Who won’t sell him out at the earliest convenience. Who won’t only be nice to him as part of an overarching plot.

She cares for Simon.

And like it or not, I care for Simon. And Penelope, much too my chagrin. So, I tell her the truth.

"Because I was told to and I thought maybe if I did it, I could keep him safe." I punctuate it with a shrug and if my words made Bunce look surprised that was really the nail in the coffin.

"What kind of twisted logic is that?" She snaps at me, less confused and more angry now.

"The Mage made him fight a dragon first year, Bunce, and just tossed him back in a home afterwards. But for some ridiculous reason, Simon still cares about him, even though all he ever does is put him in danger. I never really thought he'd join our side of the war. I just..." I sigh, realising for a moment that despite years of elocution lessons my voice is low and wavering, "I wanted him away from all of it? I thought I could do that."

She keeps searching my face, eyes flickering over it like she can read all my secrets on it. Right now, maybe she can.

"Then why pretend to be his friend, his boyfriend, whatever."

"It wasn't pretend. Not really."

She stares a moment more. "So, you're telling me, all this time you've secretly wanted to be Simon's friend?"

"Not a friend per se," I admit and it draws a laugh from her.

"Oh, so this is you dealing with a long time crush is it, Basil?" It's not even an accusation, she says it like a fact. I'm torn between protesting and salvaging what's left of my dignity or keeping my mouth shut and gaining her confidence back. I suppose in the end we both decide on the latter. "Merlin, Baz, we need to work on your flirting."

"We don't," I protest, bristling some, I think she takes a sick kind of pleasure at that. One I understand completely. "I have a boyfriend."

"Correct answer." She says, levelling a hand to point at me. The purple ring on her finger glinting threateningly in the sunlight, but for the moment not glowing with magic. "But if you ever pull shit like this again, even the Chosen One isn't going to be able to save you, Baz."

I hum in agreement, best not to goad her right now, I'll save that for another time. "Speaking of, shall we check on him and make sure he hasn't accidentally set the living room alight?"

I'm kidding but Bunce sighs, "After the last time-"

I cut her off, "there was a last time?"

She nods and pushes open the door to let us both inside, proceeding to tell me a tale involving Simon, a particularly scary movie and Pacey practising some spells. By the end of it, Simon looks like he wishes he'd killed both of us.

We eventually end up sitting up in Bunce's room, on her bed Simon's head resting on my shoulder, my arm around his waist, Bunce looking at us like she's trying to figure out if it would be homophobic to ask us to stop.

Instead, she seems to settle on, "so what happened in that meeting Baz?"

I feel Simon's head turn to look up at me but I pointedly ignore it. "I told them Snow wasn't going to fight us and they didn't need to fight him."

"And what did they say to that?" Penny prompts, always asking the questions Snow never will.

I scoff and tilt my head to the side slightly. "What do you think? They just offered up some new scheme involving him now that I have his trust."

Her eyes narrow further. "Which was?"

"I don't know," I admit, "I left."

Penny's glower is worse than ever now. "You could have stayed, figured out what they're planning, used it to make sure Simon doesn't get hurt."

I feel Simon shrug against me and I give his middle a little squeeze.

"I'm still on their side Bunce. Just not against Snow."

"So, you're going to just let them mess with him?"

"Well, I'm not going to foil their plans am I now?" I ask, pouring as much snark as I can into the words in the hopes that Bunce comes to understand how ridiculous the idea is. "They can't hurt Simon."

Snow shrugs again and I resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and telling him to stop.

"They could," Bunce protests.

I just sigh again. "How? They can’t physically hurt him and I'm the only one who could really get close enough to manipulate him. Who else is going to be able to?"

"Your father?" Penny offers up, "Dev, anyone from the Old Families with kids at Watford."

I laugh a little, I can't help it. "Snow doesn't trust my father and if he tried anything, I'd see it a mile away. That goes doubly so for Dev, he's the worst liar I've ever met."

"Well, what about-"

"We'll handle it," I cut her off, "whatever they throw at us, we'll handle it."

"It'll be fine, Pen," Simon pipes up, finally deciding to grace us with his opinion. "Let's just, not think about that right now."

I press a kiss into Simon's curls and Bunce reverts back to trying to decide if she wants to make retching noises or continue arguing with me.

She doesn't trust me and I don't blame her. But everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it.

 

* * *

I wake up to Snow's hand slipping under my shirt and running across my stomach.

I'm trying to figure out how exactly I feel about him waking me up for a quick snog but it's difficult when I'm barely conscious.

More of that  _ has  _ been happening since we returned to Watford though there really isn't that much more privacy here. It's just instead of Mordelia refusing to knock now it's Bunce.

It takes me a moment to realize his hand isn't wandering and I can feel something damp on my chest.

I try and force myself to wake up a little more, to have a little more clarity as I move a hand over Snow's. I feel him jolt beneath my palm but he doesn't pull away.

"It's alright, love, I'm fine," my voice sounds weaker than I'd like, but that’s from drowsiness not injury this time.

I hear a small sob and the Snow  _ does  _ pull away from me. I don't try to stop him. "I'm sorry. I- I nearly killed you."

He draws himself up into a sitting position beside me, pulling his knees into his chest and shuffling away from me and back onto his own bed. Which given we've pushed them back together, isn’t much distance.

I do my best not to groan or sigh as I sit up beside him, resting my back on the headboard. "You saved me, Simon."

"I tried to kill you." He sounds wreaked. Has this been weighing on him this badly the whole time or is it just because of another nightmare?

"No, you didn't."

I can see him scowling through the darkness and even if I couldn't his tone gives him away, "I  _ did  _ though, Baz.  _ I did _ ."

I shake my head before tilting it back so it's resting against the cold brick wall. "No, you didn't, not really. I've seen you fight, Snow, you always go for the kill shot."

"Baz, I  _ know _ ."

I'm still struggling to get back to the point where I feel comfortable making the first move on Snow but nonetheless, I reach between us and take his hand this time. He doesn't pull away, not yet at least.

"No, you don't," I tell him, not as a mockery or a chastisement but because he deserves to understand, "if you wanted to kill me you could have gone for the neck or the chest, I tried to let you. But you didn't." 

"That doesn't mean anything," he protests, still pleading his guilt.

I shift slightly closer to him till we're shoulder to shoulder. "Of course, it does. Snow, if you wanted to kill me, I'd be dead."

He groans but he leans into me. I just hope he's groaning because I've won another argument. "How can you just rationalise it like that? How can you just forgive me?"

"I suppose it's just how things are between us; half-hearted attempts on each other’s lives that get out of hand."

Snow scoffs but doesn't say anything.

Time for some admissions I suppose. To get some things off my chest, for my sake and his.

"I didn't think that Chimera would hurt you, you know, I just wanted to scare you." I feel his head tilt up towards me but I look away so I don't have to meet his gaze right now. "Pushing you down the stairs was an accident and the tape recorder..." I hesitate a moment.

Perhaps a moment is too long though because Snow interjects, "what tape recorder?"

"The one that stole Philippa Stainton's voice."

Snow doesn't so much gasp as give a sharp intake of breath.

I'm half expecting an 'I knew it!' but one doesn't come so I press on. "I didn't know what it did, I just knew it would hurt you. Admittedly that time I did want to hurt you, Crowley, you were ruining me that year."

He still doesn't say anything, just gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

"I never really wanted you to die  I never really tried to kill you and you never tried to kill me, not really."

**Simon**

He's still not looking at me.

I wonder if all that bothers him like nearly killing him bothers me.

I lean up and brush my lips against his cheek. I think it softens him some because he turns to look at me and just when I think he might kiss me he scoops his arms under my legs and lays them across his lap. I nearly fall back but a moment later there's a cool arm around my back keeping me upright. So, I tilt my head sideways till it rests against his chest.

There's a time and a place for these things and this certainly isn't it. But I say it anyway. "I love you." It gets murmured more into his pyjama shirt than to him but it's easier like that.

I feel him still against me and if I weren't so focused on his breathing and remembering that he's alive I'd be worried.

"I love you, too." Unlike everything else between us, he doesn't hesitate for a moment this time.

I already knew of course. He hasn't said it since but I can't imagine he'd want to given the last time  _ I _ said it, it was in the past tense.

"You know, back when Agatha broke up with me she said it's because I only thought of her as my future," I can practically feel Baz closing off as I speak and I do my best to ignore it, "At first I thought it was bullshit but now I'm pretty sure she's right."

"You don't think I'm your future?" He asks sounding far to calm and far too measured which means I've hurt him terribly.

"Of course, I do. I didn't mean it like that." I take a deep breath and try to organise my thoughts, "When Agatha would break up with me, I missed, like, a concept. A pretty girl, a bright future with no fighting, a bit of peace. I didn't miss  _ her _ . I missed what she could have been with me. Does that make sense?"

Baz gives a small sigh, I'm not sure if it's relief or exasperation, possibly the former masquerading as the latter. "It does, I suppose. It's oddly insightful and self-aware of you though. Did Bunce have to explain it to you?"

Merlin, would it kill him to stop being a prat for two minutes?

"No, you did."

He raises an eyebrow.

"When I missed you, it wasn't like that. I missed your stupid smirk and shitty attitude." I see his lip curl, in amusement, I think. "And I didn't miss the feeling of waking up beside  _ someone _ . I missed the smell of your ridiculously expensive hair products and the exact way you'd kiss down my neck in the morning and the way you cooled me down and I got to warm you up, like we fit. I missed waking up beside  _ you _ ."

When I look up at Baz he isn’t looking at me, which is basically his trademark move whenever he's experiencing an emotion he doesn't think he can hide.

I find his free hand, the one not pressed to my back and take it again. "I missed my present with you and I'm in no rush to get through it. I want it to last."

He finally turns his head to meet mine. "It'll last as long as you like, love."

"Forever?" I ask, unable to stop a sly smile from creeping across my face.

He kisses the top of my head and murmurs into my hair, "Mmm, if you want."

"I do think of the future though, sometimes."

"I thought you didn't think of things you couldn't help?" He asks from above me where his chin has come to rest atop my head.

I shrug slightly and if it jostles him, he doesn’t seem to mind. "You're hard not to think about," I admit, not for the first time either. "But I can have it, I think. You just told me I could."

"Whatever you want." It's basically a whisper. Baz is usually the talker, not me. I'm not sure if it's because he wants to hear what I have to say or if it's just because I woke him up in the middle of the night (albeit accidentally).

"Me and Penny want to get a flat together, you could stay with us... if you want, with me." I'm not making sense and I know it but Baz's chin rests atop my head and his arm tightens around my middle. "Meals together, fangs and all, we could watch movies together on the lounge and I'd make scones for breakfast and you wouldn't have to buy me clothes anymore because I'd just nick yours."

Baz lets out a soft huff of amusement. "I'd like that."

I don't say anything else. I'm not sure what else to say.

Baz somehow keeps himself awake while I manage to redescend into drowsiness. I shift off him and he gets the message and silently lays back down.

I do the same, laying my head on his chest so I can feel the rise and fall of it. Slipping a hand under his shirt so I can feel the smooth unwounded skin. Taking his hand in mine and stretching two fingers up till they rest over his pulse.

Either I'm not subtle or Baz just always knows because even though I know he's exhausted he makes a point of running his fingers through my hair, over and over, reminding me he's there and he's alive and he loves me.

"Thank you, darling," I say because even though it makes me feel stupid, I think Baz likes it.

I tug the hand I'm holding slightly and press a kiss to the back of it. He's warmer from where he's been holding me. I don't let go or move it. If Baz has a problem with my breath against his skin, he doesn't say anything.

"This would be a part of our future too. Not the nightmares- well probably still the nightmares, but this too. Whenever you need it," he tells me and I can't help but wonder if it's out of guilt. I don't ask but he responds anyway. "I just- I just want you to feel safe and happy."

He has as much trouble spitting out something soft as I do with a regular sentence. But I don't mind. I just appreciate that he cares enough to try, even though it's hard for him.

"I do," I murmur, letting him lull me to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids, I know it's been a good long while since my last fic, honestly my muse has been a little dead, so if anyone has any suggestions or requests, I live here: sorbriquette.tumblr.com
> 
> As always many thanks to my lovely betas for all their help:  
> basic-banshee.tumblr.com  
> bpitchbitch.tumblr.com  
> esabettie.tumblr.com  
> nympahdcra.tumblr.com


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